The First, Book 2: Risen from Ashes
by Tervendaja
Summary: Arriving to Raven Rock, Bernadette and her friends set out to make sense of the unexpected threat posed by mysterious cultists from Solstheim. The island, however, proves much greater challenge than anticipated, keeping its ancient secrets close, hidden in treacherous frozen wastelands. Not many things turn out as planned...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello :)**

 **Welcome to Book 2 of my little story. Rating is due to the same factors as in the first book. The game and lore belong to Bethesda/Zenimax, OCs are mine. I tried to correct as many mistakes as I could, please forgive me if you find any, English isn't my native language.**

 **This time I decided to post a chapter per week. I have 12 chapters prepared for you in this book, and will try my best to not to forget to upload one each Friday. If I do forget, I'll put the next chapter up as soon as I remember...you're welcome to notify me if this happens, though :)**

 **The concept with mind sanctuaries is based loosely on Sheogorath's quest from Skyrim where we take a trip to Pelagius' head.**

 **For those, who are interested - Vermethys is based on the Templar class from ESO. I mean, Nightblade is a base class in Morrowind and Oblivion, so why wouldn't Templars make it from the Second Era? Maybe there's some remote temple where old masters teach the few young students...**

 **Also...if some of you find Miraak overpowered during the course of the story...it is because I firmly believe he should be. He spent four eras in Apocrypha, for Divines' sake! I never liked that some nobody from a chopping block could dispatch Harkon, Alduin and Miraak so easily...these bosses are ancient beings who have been gathering power for millenia. They should splash the LDB like a rotten tomato across a wall with ease.**

 **End of rant. Enjoy the story :)**

 **XXX**

 **Apocrypha**

He smiled. He finally managed to move around without misjudging distances and bumping into piles of books or slipping off of the metallic bridges. He had to focus on where he was walking and look for small clues, like shadows, to orient better, though.

And he found a staff to lean on while walking. It was an ugly staff, with a lurker head at the end. The only thing it could do was spew slimy mass full of writhing tentacles, something he wasn't really interested in.

There was a constant gnawing in his stomach, as if he was hungry. But...he found no food. Only books. Tentacles. Soul gems and sheets of paper, fluttering about. His throat felt raspy of thirst as well. There was water here, but even if he could remove that blasted mask, he wouldn't dare to drink it. Maybe it wasn't even water. It looked suspiciously thick, like ink.

These sensations never ceased. But they also never intensified, on the other hand.

He climbed a set of stairs and peeked inside a strange, toothy pod. Books. Of course.

There was a glowing opened book on a pedestal.

After touching it, the world smeared. When it turned to normal, he was standing...somewhere else. Somewhere else filled with books.

He groaned. This wasn't part of the deal.

XXX

They were watching him. Those ragged creatures, called the seekers, were watching him. But never attacked.

His clothes looked similar to theirs, albeit his were a bit more orderly. Maybe...he carefully examined the mask with his hands. It was tentacled (was there anything in this realm, that wasn't, for Wolf-Mother's sake?) and reminded him of his previous mask. It also reminded him of the seekers. Could it be protecting him?

XXX

Lurkers didn't seem to mind the horrifying inky waters of Apocrypha. Miraak often found them floating just below the surface, their heads poking up above the water like frogs. They didn't even pay attention to him.

XXX

How long has he been here?

It seemed like an eternity.

There was no one to talk to. Only books to keep him company. The seekers whispered one to another, sometimes, but he didn't care to near them to hear what they were saying.

He pried a book from the wall right next to him.

XXX

Well...at least he learnt new spells. But to what end?

XXX

The hunger and thirst never ceased. His lips felt raspy, his throat dry. He longed for a sip of water, for a crumb of food. He desired them with his whole being.

XXX

And the silence! Nothing but whispers, fluttering of papers and sounds of books being moved!

He looked up towards the swirling green sky. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. A scream without words. He poured all of his anger and fear into it. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

After his voice got hoarse, he stopped.

"Curse you," he sobbed as he crumpled down along a wall.

XXX

How many books has he read by now? He lost count long ago...or did he deliberately stop counting? He thought so...after he managed to get good enough at another language, he stopped counting. Yes. That was it.

He could read about ten languages by now.

He read about many interesting events. Wars. Benevolent kings. Great nations. Dying empires of the elves (mostly). Rising realms of men.

He also read many spellbooks. So many he started forgetting the spells he had learnt before. But...it didn't really matter. The longer he was here, the more he understood how magic worked, and that there really weren't any schools or spells. It all depended on how one weaved the streams of magicka. The spells and divinations existed only to help casters focus on their goal.

When he had no mood for learning, he read stories.

He found himself trying to remember how touch of grass felt. He couldn't.

XXX

Herma-Mora dropped by, sometimes. He wanted Miraak to shuffle a paper here, move a book there, whisper through a wall. Sometimes he even wanted him to reach out to Nirn and whisper to the winds.

XXX

Finally! A real person!

He halted himself before he stepped out of the shadows. He looked like a strange seeker, did he not? He had to find a way to communicate with the person.

He, it must have been a he, since he had a flat chest, like Miraak himself had, didn't look like a person, though. Or maybe he did and Miraak only forgot what a person looked like. This one had pointy, moving ears on top of his head. And a prolonged face, with a muzzle. Miraak didn't have a muzzle, did he? He reached for his face. No. He didn't. He had a mask.

Maybe he could try writing a greeting on a piece of paper. Maybe several. In different languages. And then show it to the person.

Yes. That was a good plan.

XXX

It worked!

They even talked. After the person taught Miraak how to pronounce the words he had written. So now he could speak another language as well.

His new friend was glad for Miraak's protection. He told him all about forests, and rain, and how blue the sky is. He told him about his people, cat people called the Khajiit. Miraak listened intently and kept him away from seekers and lurkers. Showed him the most interesting books.

His friend was thrilled.

Sometimes he had to vanish from Apocrypha, but he promised to come back.

And he always did.

XXX

Miraak hurried across the bridge, limping as fast as he could (which was not very fast). He recognised the feeling of someone entering Apocrypha, someone from the outside world.

One more pillar of books.

Miraak froze mid stride. That...that was not his friend.

But...maybe it was. It had the same tail. And yet it didn't look like the Khajiit. It looked more like a...a…

 _Seeker._

Miraak slid back into shadows, trembling.

XXX

Ever since that moment, when he found someone, he urged them to leave. Leave and never to return!

Some listened to him.

Most did not.

XXX

This place would suffice. A good, stable hideout. A place he could make his own. He started to move the books and categorize them.

XXX

He found a satchel. On a dead body. After he tossed away all the books it had been holding, he hung the satchel on his shoulder. With a proud smile he decided this was going to be his very own bag to hold the most precious memories. He has been filling blank books with his memories, little things he could remember and didn't want to forget.

The touch of Geda's hands and her smile. The day when he finished building shrines around the Sun stone. Angma's approving nod. His nana and how she taught him to make chocolate. The day when he saw the ocean for the first time. He still remembered the feeling of awe, the incredible vastness and faint whispering, even if he didn't remember what the ocean looked like.

And drawings. He would try to draw images that didn't vanish from his head. Faces Flowers. Animals. Homes. Places.

Each book added to the new bag had better and better pictures, albeit based more on impression than reality.

XXX

His sanctuary. It was safe. Lonely.

He was sitting on the ground, hidden among objects built from books. He hugged his knees. Why wouldn't the pain in his stomach stop? What was it? Why was it tormenting him? Or was it normal? To feel like this? He couldn't remember.

Why was it always so quiet?

He desired so desperately to hear a voice.

Maybe he could fill the quiet with his own voice? How?

He slowly straightened his legs. He remembered songs. He never sang before, what if he did it wrong?

He shook his head. No matter. He might do it wrong at the beginning, but he was sure he'd get better with practice. He always did.

So...what to sing...he chose the first song that came to his mind. " _The sky is dark, the sun has died, upon an empty path my feet do thread...in my heart the spark of life has cried, in the cold my spirit fills with dread. O, Wolven star, Wolven star, the only light in my sky, lead my way, lead me home…_ "

XXX

This was strange. Apocrypha...felt different. Sturdier.

He tried to reach out of it, to catch a whisper of wind, like Mora used to ask him to do.

He found only Apocrypha.

What? No. No! No, no, no, no, no! That was his only connection to home! He looked around, his eyes darting from one pillar of books to another. There must be something! Anything!

He snapped up. There was something! Something in his journals…

He opened a pathway through Apocrypha and went in.

XXX

Where was it?!

He frantically flipped through another notebook. Not here, dammit! He put the notebook back carefully, then pulled out another one.

Page. Another page. Not this. Not that...if he only knew what he was looking for! A connection...connection...connection to...what? Ah. To home.

His eyes stopped on one page. Shrines. Around the Sun stone. There were more stones like that, weren't there?

He wasn't entirely sure. Better focus on the Sun stone. That was written in his journal, therefore it must have been true.

XXX

Mora wasn't watching for the moment.

Time to do his thing.

Miraak crept into his sanctuary at the summit of Apocrypha and sat down. He breathed in and out. He could do it. He was powerful. They wanted to harness him, they wanted to kill him, they never succeeded. His will was never broken. He cleared his mind and focused on the Stone.

And there it was. After a while he felt...something. Warmth. Light. He reached for it.

It was like wading through muck. He had to push through forcefully, forge a path, a connection, through the writhing essence of Apocrypha. He bared his teeth. He screamed, shouted, fought his way forward.

And then he was there.

In scorching heat. It poured over him mercilessly, burning his soul. Memories of dragonfire turning him to a crisp flooded his mind. He winced and recoiled. Apocrypha beckoned, pulled, wanted him back…

No!

He grabbed onto the flaming essence. He pulled himself closer, closer, and slowly stopped fighting the heat, allowing the golden flare to swallow him whole.

As it did, it changed. No longer threatening, it caressed him with gentle warmth. He still could feel the slimy pull of Apocrypha, but now the warmth was protecting him. He felt a connection form between him and the light, ensuring his safe return to this glowing sanctuary should he leave.

He also felt other energies, connecting to the warmth filling him. Earthy smell with a timeless certainty of stone. Freshness of northerly winds. Distant calls that must have been animals. Whispering of leaves, the smell of bark. Flowing and dampness of water.

His eyes welled with tears. Remnants of forgotten sensations crept back into his memory. He travelled to each source, staying in every one of them for a while, breathing in the essences.

After stopping in the Earth stone, he realised he could feel minds around him. _People_. Living, breathing people. He reached out, brushing at the edges. No protection. He could enter any of the minds if he wished.

He stopped.

He could do that, couldn't he? And use the stones?

Yes. Yes, he could. He could get home. He could be _free_.

XXX

 **4E 201, Solstheim**

So, Raven Rock, right? Bernadette looked around, but ended up disappointed. No black birds around here.

She asked the second councilor Arano about Miraak, the name from the note. Strangely enough, he couldn't give her a straight answer. But he did point her to some stone, not far from the little town.

"You coming with me?" she looked at her companions.

"No," both Marcurio and Godric groaned, their complexions still a bit greenish.

"Sure. It seems like there's nothing else to do in this ashen heap, murmuring and whispering in the winds," Zura pulled her scarf out of her backpack. "Howling wind and chafing ash. A marvelous combination," she grumbled.

Bernadette smiled and patted Zura's back. "You'll be fine. I'm sure that a plot concerning assassins is a good go for any book. Boys, take some money and head for the inn. We'll join you later."

As they walked through the town, Bernadette pulled her scarf up as well. The winds, sharply blowing, carried specks of ash with them.

"Do you think that's it?" Zura pondered and pointed forward.

There was a rather strange structure in the distance. A standing stone, no, an obelisk, emanating an eerie sickly green light stood there, and outlines of otherworldly arches could be seen around it.

"It would seem so...are those people moving around it?" Bernadette shielded her eyes from the wind.

"I'm starting to have a baaaaad feeling about this. Better to note everything down," Zura reached for her notebook.

"Come on, let's have a closer look," Bernadette chuckled and ushered the Khajiit to move.

As they neared, they confirmed that indeed there were people around the stone. Moving around, working on the structures. Building.

"Are they...are they murmuring? In flat voices?" Zura trembled.

"Sounds like some mantra…"

Zura moved closer to a young dunmeri woman, building a wall out of stones. "Excuse me, what's happening?"

"Here in his shrine," the woman said, her eyes staring blankly at the wall.

"What was that?" Zura blinked. No answer. She tried to wave her hand in front of the woman's eyes, but got no response whatsoever.

"That they have forgotten," a different voice resounded. Zura slowly backtracked to Bernadette and grabbed her hand.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "This is...wrong."

"Here do we toil."

"Yes," Bernadette squeezed Zura's hand, "it is most definitely wrong. But...what _is_ it?"

"That we might remember."

"Look!" Zura pointed. "There, see those two? They are not working on...on...whatever this is."

"Yea, I see them. Let's ask them what's going on."

"By night we reclaim."

The two individuals were both Dunmer, a woman and a man. The woman was rather curvy for a Dunmer, though other races probably wouldn't describe her as such. There were threads of silver in her otherwise black hair, and gentle wrinkles around her eyes. She was still in her prime, dressed in a rather odd set of armour, probably leather and chitin. She also wore a lot of scarves, fluttering around her in the wind, some of them wrapped around her waist, some around her shoulders and neck. Her arms, scarred and muscled, were bare, with the exception of a bright orange ribbon wound around her right arm all the way down to her hand. She was holding a spear and a sword was hanging by her hip.

The man was elderly, bald, had a pointy beard and looked rather intrigued.

"What by day was stolen."

"What do you think this is, old cot?" the woman inquired.

"I have no idea. But it is utterly fascinating."

"Far from ourselves."

Zura slowed her pace. Then she suddenly tugged Bernadette towards the stone.

"Zura? What are you doing?"

No response. The two unaffected turned to their direction.

Zura's eyes went blank. She walked over to the stone, as if in a dream. She slowly put her hand on the stone.

"He grows ever near to us," she said flatly. Then she turned around and went to fetch building materials for a guard who ran out.

"Fascinating," a dunmeri voice said from behind Bernadette. "By touching the stone, she appears to have fallen under whatever influence is affecting the others."

Bernadette turned around. The dunmeri wizard was stroking his beard. "I wonder how long this effect will last. Perhaps it is permanent as with the others."

"Our eyes once were blinded."

The woman hit his calves with the shaft of her spear. "What are you doing?!" he hissed. She motioned her head towards Bernadette. The wizard raised an eyebrow at the Breton.

"You there…you don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others here. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"

"Now through him do we see."

Bernadette looked at the woman, then, after a quick glance at Zura, turned her eyes back to the wizard. Neloth. "I'm looking for someone named Miraak."

He rubbed his chin. "Miraak...Miraak...it sounds familiar, and yet I can't quite place…" He perked up all of a sudden. "Oh, wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense." He put his hands on his hips. "Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

"Our hands once were idle."

"What does that mean?" Bernadette looked at him over her nose.

"I'm not sure. But it is fascinating, isn't it?" he smirked. "Perhaps it has some relation to what's is going on here. Quite unexpected." He stroked his beard again. "I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

"Now through them does he speak."

"What are these people doing?" Bernadette wondered.

"Building something, _clearly_ ," Neloth retorted. "And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."

"And when the world shall listen."

"Have you tried to stop it?"

"Certainly not!" Neloth scowled at her fiercely. "Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how this all turns out. Hmpf," he turned and walked away, not responding to her calls.

"And when the world shall see."

"Don't mind Neloth, young one," the dunmer woman moved closer to Bernadette, "he is an eccentric old puss."

"Who are you? How come that neither you or him are affected?" Bernadette turned to her. Now she noticed that the woman was strikingly beautiful, her features were sharp and her crimson eyes large, hemmed by long lashes. Though there were patches of sickly pale skin on the left side of her face, stretching from the hairline over the eye to her chin. Bernadette narrowed her eyes. The woman's hair was white where the discoloured skin was, and the edge of her eye, also impacted by whatever sickness she had suffered, was dully grey as well. Though the rest of it was still as red as blood.

"My name's Vermethys" she smiled. "I'm a curious dame who sticks her nose into all sorts of affairs and dabbles into many arts. Neloth is a powerful master wizard of house Telvanni. He can protect himself from mind control. As for me, I never was one to let anyone order me about."

"And when the world remembers."

Vermethys leaned onto her spear. It was a simple, yet deadly looking weapon, with elegant curves on either side of the blade. "You seem to be protected as well, warmaiden."

"Bernadette," the Breton muttered. She reached for her necklace, running her thumb over the bear totem. She remembered what her mother told her. _The Old one protects us._

"What a peculiar amulet," Vermethys noted, smile on her full lips. "It reminds me of a similar one I have seen a long, long time ago…"

"That world shall cease to be," Zura's emotionless voice cut in. Both Bernadette and Vermethys turned to look at the small Ohmes.

"Rather disturbing mantra, is it not?" the Dunmer commented.

"Yes. But...what does it mean?" Bernadette went a bit closer to the shore, to replace the eerie chanting with the sound of the waves crashing at the ashen beach. Vermethys went with her.

"I am not not certain. But, since you and your friend over there came here in search of the ancient legend, perhaps Neloth was right and there _is_ a relation between the two."

Bernadette put her hands on her hips. "How do I find out?"

Vermethys chuckled. "A curious one. Well, you could go to the temple. I'm not really sure if that will actually bring any closure, but it is an option. There is also a rather peculiar Bosmer residing on Solstheim for the moment, whom you could seek out. He knows a lot about weird things and, as he likes to call it, 'daedric bullshit.' The structures certainly do look daedric," the Dunmer motioned towards the arches being built around the stone.

"Is there something I could do for Zura? To free her from the...the mental control?"

Vermethys saddened. "I don't know. It usually happens during the night, but being so close to the stone has far stronger effect. The people snap out of it on their own, alas, never sooner than after at least few hours of work. I actually tried to do something to protect the people of Raven Rock, but my power is...nothing, compared to what comes out of the stone. I also think that Neloth himself is powerless to do anything with it, and that means something immensely powerful is manipulating the power inside the stone. Not that he would try to do anything about it, though."

"You're protector of the town? You don't look like anyone from around here."

"I have great fondness for Raven Rock," Vermethys smiled enigmatically with a spark in her eyes. "Why shouldn't I live here? I have nothing against the Redoran. And they seem to like me. Especially when I offer help with...whatever." She flashed a wide grin. "I know some tricks I learnt while travelling. And I know how to keep dangers out of the town. One side is protected by the Bulwark, the other by my humble home and shrine."

Bernadette remembered seeing a rather strange dwelling on the edge of the town closest to the stone. It was mixture of a Redoran manor and a mushroom tower. She thought it was some dunmeri weirdness. But the woman in front of her clearly wasn't a wizard of, what was the house, Telvanni? Bernadette heard about their magical prowess and mushroom towers, but she didn't hear about anyone else growing those structures.

"Where could I find the Bosmer?"

"Oh, I think he lives in Thirsk, now. Come, come, I will show you a map."

Bernadette shot one last look to Zura. She was furiously hammering at the arches. The Breton shook her head and hurried after the Dunmer, walking away with certainty and determination. As they walked toward Vermethys' home, Bernadette's heart sank. Marcurio was walking towards the stone, his eyes blank.

XXX

Vermethys invited Bernadette to her home. It was a rather welcoming place, albeit a bit dark for lack of proper windows. Fire was burning in a fireplace on the opposite side of the entrance and colourful dunmeri paper lanterns were hanging from the ceiling in elaborate patterns. The floor was mostly covered in rugs of varying styles, and there were planters everywhere. Planters teeming with plants, having both cooking and alchemical uses.

Wooden toys lay scattered about the floor. And a guar plushie.

"Go right there," Vermethys motioned towards a round door on the right side of the room, "and then stand in the torrent of energy. I had Sadryn put an enchantment there, so guests could visit upstairs. The best seats are placed in our library, see. I'll bring tea." She went to one of the plants and began cutting leaves with great care.

Bernadette nodded and went through the door. The structure of the mushroom tower was rather odd. There were no stairs. She decided not to think about it and stepped into a glyph, glowing on the floor.

Magical energies swirled around her and lifted her up. Then they placed her gently into a round room filled with books. There was a little coffee table with two cushioned seats next to one of the shelves. Bernadette picked one and sat down.

Vermethys floated up on her own, three purple discs beneath her feet. She was carrying a tray with rather nice looking redware tea set. After she set the tray on the table and poured a cup for each of them, she walked over to a chest of drawers, opened it and began to sift through many, many papers inside.

She furrowed her brows after a while.

"By the...where is it? Damnations. Not here. Here? No! That's not the right one...fuck." She straightened. "Sadryn! Where the Oblivion is my map of Solstheim? The new one!" she roared.

"I don't know, you loud shrew! You probably stuffed it somewhere after you finished your incorrect scribbling!" a voice of a male Dunmer called out from somewhere above them.

"Nonsense! I don't just stuff things somewhere, without order!" she shouted back.

"Ha! Have you ever looked into your backpack? Or wardrobe?"

"Shut up! Or else I'll start to regret letting you live!"

"Har, har, we've heard that so many times. You're all bark and no bite." Footsteps were heard and after some time a handsome Dunmer wizard, dressed in green telvanni robes, floated down to the library. He was about Vermethys' age and was holding a small khajiiti child in one arm, a folded piece of paper in the other.

He handed the paper to Vermethys. "Here, you put it in a planter instead of those seeds, which I found in your unmentionables." He noticed Bernadette, sitting in the armchair, sipping tea and watching silently. "Oh, and we apparently have a guest. You never tell me anything, you inconsiderate kagouti." He bowed to Bernadette, his lips twitching slightly in a hint of a smile. "Pleased to meet you, madam. I am Sadryn of house Telvanni, a master wizard. If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my studies." He gently caressed the child's spotted golden fur. It purred contentedly.

"Wait a moment, you little handsome n'wah," Vermethys grabbed him. She kissed him ardently on the mouth. He moaned and returned her kiss. Bernadette reddened and looked away.

After a moment Vermethys broke the kiss. She caressed Sadryn's cheek, then kissed the child on the top of the head. "You're free to leave," she smiled. Sadryn gave her a crooked grin and went back upstairs.

"Now, Bernadette, let us have a look at the map," Vermethys unfolded the map and put it on the table. "This is Raven Rock," she pointed the town out. "These little markings are the sacred stones."

"There are more of them?"

"Yes. And they carry great significance. But about that later, should you be interested. Here is Thirsk, where Firan resides. Should you visit him, tell him I sent you. Oh, and could you give this to him?" she reached into her pocket and pulled a small bundle out.

Bernadette took it and hid it into one of her enchanted satchels.

"How very nice of you. Be warned again, he is an odd fellow. Coming from someone living with a telvanni wizard, that should tell you something about how odd he really is. And here is the temple. Now listen closely, I will tell you how to best get there and what to look out for during the trip…"

XXX

After purchasing a map of her own from the local merchant and noting down a number of points of interest Vermethys had shown her, Bernadette made her way to the inn. There she found Godric, looking very confused, talking to the innkeeper.

She went over to them. "Hi, pup. Good afternoon, sera," she nodded towards the innkeeper.

"Good afternoon to you, too. You're a companion of this one and his friend?"

"Yes, I am."

"Bernadette!" Godric almost yelped out. "Marcurio is gone! We wanted to take a nap before you girls came back and when I woke up, he was gone!"

"I know where he is," Bernadette sighed. "Enthralled by the stone, just like Zura. I'm wondering, how come you aren't?"

Both the innkeeper and Godric blinked at her. Then they looked at each other and shrugged.

"No mater. We'll wait till the morning, then set out for the temple. Let's have a look around, perhaps there's something we can do around here."

XXX

"Why must you stick your nose into every dark, ancient, droopy hole filled with nasty creatures you find?"

"Oh, snap out of it," Bernadette grinned as she put her sword through a giant spider, "aren't you curious what's down here?"

"No!"

XXX

"Hey, look!" Bernadette stopped abruptly. "That looks _exactly_ like the metal from which the tip of our mysterious staff is made!"

"And?" Godric looked at a draugr sitting on one of the stone seats. It looked finitely dead, but one could never be sure.

"Well, maybe the metal is native to Solstheim," Bernadette was touching it and examining it thoroughly. "I've never seen any around Skyrim, with the exception of the one, precisely one tomb where we found the staff. And the other stuff. Maybe we can find clues to who our priest was somewhere around here!"

"Would that involve delving into more scary and dark places?"

"Certainly!"

Godric groaned.

XXX

"Oooh, this ancient nordic pickaxe works! Let's see what's inside…"

XXX

"A dead body. How unexpected."

"Yea, but this one is in far worse shape than those in Eldergleam Sanctuary. Also the metal is much less see-through. I wonder why that is…"

"Can we go, please?"

"Sure. Just let me pick these lumps...I want to find out what it is."

XXX

"Talos shield us from harm!" Godric cried out as the priest rose from the murky, freezing waters.

Bernadette grinned and raised her crossbow. "Zenithar smite you, shambler. Come, I have some exploding bolts for you!"

XXX

"What...what is _that_?" Godric shivered and stepped to the side to hide behind Bernadette's back. He was clutching his arm, severely singed by the priest. Bernadette wasn't looking much better, her armour being damaged by the lightning, as well as her not very protected legs, dressed in striped pants, now singed.

"I don't know," she admitted and scratched her head. Her hair, as well as Godric's, was all messed up, even sticking up in some places.

There was a...book...placed on the pedestal in front of them. An eerie black book with something reminiscent of an octopus on its cover.

"It looks daedric, I would say." She walked to it and reached her hand out.

"Don't!" Godric yelped.

But it was too late. Bernadette has already picked it up and opened it. She smiled. "Don't worry, nothi-"

Her voice was cut short by sickly green tentacles, pulling her spirit inside the book. Her body remained standing still, holding the book.

XXX

"So, another seeker of knowledge enters my realm," a disembodied voice vibrated through the still air. It was lazy and it's words rolled out almost purringly. Bernadette, utterly confused, blinked as darkness slowly left her eyes.

She was in a completely alien surroundings.

"I am Hermaeus Mora," the voice suddenly bellowed with the strength of a hurricane, "Prince of Fate, and lord of secrets," it lowered its volume to a barely recognisable whisper. "This is Apocrypha," the voice continued, gaining intensity again, then slumping back into laziness, "where all knowledge is hoarded. Perhaps you will prove clever enough to uncover secrets hidden here. If so, welcome." The voice then trembled with a certain perversion in a hint of laughter. "Hm-hm-m-m-ha. Perhaps you are a fool, or a coward," it challenged. "If so, you are in peril. Read your book again and escape before Apocrypha claims you forever."

Then, silence.

The world brightened a little, but not too much. Bernadette looked around.

What she saw brought her no confidence.

But she was no coward, or a fool. She set her jaw. Perhaps it was a kind of poetic justice, that her first daedric encounter happened with the Prince of knowledge.

She took a resolute step forward, resting her hand on Bearclaw's hilt.

XXX

"Bernadette!"

She blinked. What happened? A moment ago, she was touching one of the green orbs hovering above the book, and now she was...where?

Godric hurried to her and touched her shoulder. "You're real again! By Talos, I was so afraid…" he hugged her all of a sudden, pressing the book she was still holding to her chest.

Yes, the laboratory…

"There were things, they-they-they sucked you inside, right, and then, then I could see right through you, as if you were there, but you weren't there, and I, I didn't know what to do-"

He kept mumbling. Bernadette, having shaken off her confusion, patted him on the back.

XXX

"Would you rather sleep among the dead?" she raised her eyebrow at Godric. He shook his head.

"No…"

"Then we'll rest here. Don't worry, all the reavers are dead, I checked twice. And no one will come till morning, in the least. I doubt that anyone will come at all. Outlaws and bloodthirsty idiots usually don't have very friendly relations among themselves. Also, we're in the stable looking tower, so it won't fall on our heads."

"I hope so."

XXX

Oh no. She has had this sensation once before. While she slept beneath the Eldergleam. Another vision? But there was no divinity here…

She looked around. Darkness. She saw nothing but darkness.

There was something pulling her in a certain direction, a covert feeling she had to go there...when she took a step in that direction, though, her totemic necklace began to heat up. It burned bright on her chest, yet it didn't hurt her.

She took a step back. The heat slowly died out.

She shook her head. What was the meaning of this? Was it reproach for entering Apocrypha? For braving the library and then accepting a boon from Hermaeus Mora? Were the gods angry with her?

Shivers suddenly ran down her spine. She shuddered and hugged herself in a fit of cold. What if she sold her soul to the Daedra?

Before she had time to explore that thought, she heard something. A distant echo of a voice?

She perked up. Then she took several steps closer to the voice echoing through the darkness.

"And when the world remembers," the voice grew ever stronger as she neared it. It was a rather powerful voice, masculine, with an exotic accent she couldn't place anywhere. The sound of it struck her to her very core, wrapping around her heart, grasping it tightly, making it beat faster, faster. She took a shaky breath, not really sure what exactly she was feeling, fear or excitement, and took several steps closer to the voice.

As she neared, she could discern a certain string of light from the rest of the darkness. Or maybe a swirl? There was a tall, lean shape standing in the middle of it.

"That world shall cease to be."

Shivers ran through her whole body as her mouth gaped open. Those words! Those were the words Zura had spoken! Struck by fear, yet pulled forward by relentless curiosity, she made her way to the chanting shape, trembling more and more with each step.

As she neared it, the voice stopped. The shape whipped around, looking loosely in her direction. She could see it better now, as it popped into the foreground, having the swirl of lights behind its back and illuminating it. It was certainly a male figure, though an odd one. She could see the shape of his shoulders and head, strange and spiky. The rest of his lean figure, flowy and uncertain, was disappearing in the darkness of their surroundings.

"What?" he moved his head as he looked around carefully. "Who dares to enter my realm? Show yourself!"

Feeling enthralled by that heavenly voice, albeit sharp with alertness, Bernadette slowly shuffled forward.


	2. Chapter 2

There was an intruder. Someone crept up to him, without him noticing. As Miraak's eyes roved through the darkness, a shape separated itself from it. Moving closer to him, it took the visage of a young woman.

He narrowed his eyes. This was odd.

She moved ever so slowly. Each step she took was small and strained, and he could see the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes, however, burnt with fires of curiosity.

Her golden eyes.

He strengthened his grip on the mental links behind him. A wyrd woman? What was a wyrd woman doing here? He thought all of them left long ago. All that were worth mentioning, anyway. There were few remaining, but those weren't really worth even a look.

But this one...this one was untouched by his meddling. Her mind was her own, albeit filled with fear.

Maybe she was that strange presence near the Earth stone, untouchable, standing tall behind a mental wall of indomitable will?

No.

This one was different. The other was a blinding beacon of colourful light of dusk, or maybe dawn.

She stopped not far away from him. She was silent. As was he. They measured each other, unsure of what was happening.

Miraak closed his eyes. Then he opened his left eye, the blind one, and invoked his Sight.

As he opened the eye, she gasped and took a step back.

He almost did too. Once he looked at her with his Sight, he saw an enormous, hulking figure connected to her. He was standing guard over this woman, His great claws resting on her shoulders protectively. Miraak could feel His ancient eyes piercing him, watching, waiting to see what the priest would do.

Miraak shut his eye quickly and dismissed the Sight.

So she _was_ a part of the wyrd.

Well, he wouldn't let anyone scare him. Not even the Old one, or any other of the Old Gods. He already stood up to gods once. He straightened his shoulders and took a step forward.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who are _you_?" she countered, her voice shaking severely. Yet she had the guts to demand her own answers. He felt a smile creep onto his lips.

"I am forgotten. I stood against the gods and was forsaken. My name is-"

But before he could finish the sentence, something happened. The darkness around them faltered. His sanctuary was weakening. He reached inside for his core pulsing with unbridled magicka to defend himself.

Her image frayed. She reached out, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise. Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone.

Miraak steadied himself. Apocrypha was trying to pull him back. Tsk. He wouldn't let it. He gritted his teeth and spread his arms. To the sanctuary. To the Sun stone. There he was safe.

He relocated himself just in time to flee from the presence of Apocrypha, breaking through the darkness.

XXX

Bernadette woke up with a gasp. She shot up, sweat trailing down her neck. Her breath was haggard and shallow. Her eyes darted around.

She saw the reaver's tower, still dark in the dim light of the barely rising sun. Godric was soundly asleep not far from her, not phased by her awakening in the slightest.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

It was just a dream, right?

Was it?

She got up and put her armour on. Once the reassuring weight settled on her shoulders, she felt a bit calmer. She needed to think about it for a moment. She went out of the room and sat down on one of the ledges connecting the towers. She dangled her legs in the cold air and watched the sunrise, looking a bit hazy behind the curtain of floating ash.

She knew that voice. She heard it once before, in the vision Kynareth had sent her.

She reached for her totem and grasped it firmly. The jackdaw, up until now fluttering about, settled on her shoulder. Bernadette scratched it gently, just as the bird liked it. She felt oddly comforted by the bird's presence, more than usual.

What could that have been? It wasn't a vision, no. He wouldn't have acted like he did if it was. And that mantra. It was the same the workers by the Earth stone were chanting flatly. Was he the one behind it? Was he Miraak?

He could have been.

What would it mean, though? What could she do with it?

She sighed. Only more thoughts and questions, no answers. She really needed to go to the temple.

But what if it didn't hold any answers?

It had to.

She heard Godric stir inside the tower. She dismissed her thoughts. Time to go back to Raven Rock.

XXX

Bernadette wrinkled her nose. She never worked with netches before and had no idea how smelly the beasts were when dead. Luckily she asked how to extract the jelly. She wanted to help Milore. She and her husband were crucial for Raven Rock.

She finally managed to bottle the last of the jelly she needed.

Godric sniffed. "By the gods, this smells terrible. Even worse than the two of us sweating in the ash."

"Oh shut up."

XXX

"Goodness, it must have been quite difficult tracking those creatures down out there," Milore gasped when Bernadette offered the jelly to her. She smiled and reached for a bundle of potions. "Here, take these. They should help you during your journeys."

"Thank you kindly," Bernadette replied with a small smile and took the bundle. "Tell me, have my friends, the little curly Ohmes and the Imperial mage, have they returned back from the stone yet?"

"I...I'm not entirely sure, sorry."

"No problem. I'll look for them on my own, thanks."

She stopped by the smithy as well, to return the ancient nordic pickaxe. The smith told her to keep it, though, which left her confused, albeit pleasantly. After another stop at the old Imperial's home, they returned to the inn.

"Geldis, have our friends returned from the stone?"

The Dunmer smiled at her tiredly. "Yes. This morning. They're sleeping in your room now. Poor things."

"I think I'll let them sleep a bit longer," Bernadette sat down on a stool. "What is your speciality?"

He winked at her. "The finest sujamma to cross your lips, my own recipe. Wanna try it?"

"Sure. For both of us, please," she motioned for Godric to sit down. He did, but eyed Geldis and the drink suspiciously.

Bernadette tasted it. "Oh, by the Eight, that is divine!" she exclaimed.

Geldis smiled proudly.

"Godric, you gotta try it. Come on, it won't bite," she nudged him. The Nord frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"It's...sorry, but my ma...she always told me-"

"Wait. Is this the 'Nord among mer' thing? I thought you didn't incline to it. Wait, do you feel odd in my presence? Bretons are often called manmer, you know. My ears are even a bit pointy," Bernadette turned her head a little so her ears could be seen better. They were the tiniest bit pointy, but still looked more like human than meric ears. She took another gulp of the sujamma and purred. "Simply. Divine. Hey, Geldis, could you sell me a few bottles of this?"

"You know what? Spread the word, and few, let's say ten, samples around Raven Rock and I'll give you some for the road," Geldis smiled at her.

"Deal!"

XXX

"Let me get this straight," Zura rubbed her temples. "There are sacred stones all over the island. Someone is using them to mind control people in the vicinity. That someone is possibly the same Miraak who sent assassins after Godric," she pointed towards the Nord, "and to learn more, we need either to trek into the wilderness, the middle of nowhere, to scavenge an ancient temple for any possible remaining information, or to visit a crazy Bosmer who knows a lot about 'daedric bullshit,' living in an even bigger middle of nowhere in the wilderness. Possibly both. And yet you agreed to help a very handsome captain to help investigate these scary stinky creatures made of ash and embers, which will lead us into fort Frostmoth, a rather legendary, yet ruined, site. Am I getting this right?"

"You forgot about raiding some wrecked ship for a portfolio," Marcurio noted dryly.

"Look, you can go back to Skyrim if you dislike the course so much," Bernadette frowned.

"Nah. I was actually just wanting to get the details right. A remarkable adventure in the ash, I can work with that," Zura smiled, albeit tiredly. Both she and Marcurio had circles under their eyes and kept yawning. "I think this is a good plot for the story. Maybe excluding the portfolio. That depends on what is in it."

Marcurio groaned. "You're both insane and terrible."

XXX

"Oh!" Zura exclaimed loudly. "I found the portfolio! And I'm pretty sure that this _will_ go into the book, heh."

"Really? Now I have to see," Bernadette looked over Zura's shoulder. After scanning the title, she burst out laughing.

"Well, the Dunmer aren't as prude as people say, it would seem," Marcurio noted after looking at the portfolio.

"Nope. Have you ever heard about something called 'Boethiah's Pillow Book'?'' Bernadette giggled.

Godric, who turned a very bright shade of red after seeing the title, backed away. "I haven't and I don't really want to!"

XXX

Miraak was lying curled in the warm light of the Sun stone's essence. He was managing the mind bond only partially, his thoughts running to the wyrd woman who startled him.

Maybe she could help him get home.

Or she was there to ruin his efforts. Maybe someone didn't like his meddling with the stones. Her patron, the Old one, for example. Weren't the stones His? But he had to use them. There was no other way to break out of Apocrypha.

He shivered.

No, he couldn't stay there anymore.

He needed to know more about her. She could be crucial to his freedom, or she could tear it away from him. She already found her way to him once, what if she did that again without him knowing? He'd be at her mercy. He didn't like the thought.

He got up. He needed to reach out to her first, to learn more about her.

He was certain he could find her mind again.

Time to search for it.

XXX

He was sliding across hundreds of minds. None of those was the one he coveted. Was she protecting herself? Probably.

He sighed. He didn't particularly like using the Sight, but sometimes it came in handy.

He closed his eyes.

XXX

There she was.

Her mind reminded him of a patch of weed, resilient, never backing down, always spreading and growing, and yet possessing a wild, untamed beauty.

A patch guarded by angry bears.

He paused for a moment to wonder about weed. The thought came to him out of the blue when he found her, but nothing else. He couldn't fish an image of any weed from his mind no matter how hard he tried.

He huffed in frustration. That wasn't important right now. The spirit bears were.

He took a deep breath. Dragons didn't bring him down. One frightened woman, no matter how powerful or protected, won't either.

He waited until she fell asleep, then snuck past the spirit bears. He touched her mind gently.

Something opened in front of him. He went through a light curtain of fluttering green, almost see-through, cloth. And he froze. His eyes widened. Then he bit his lip furiously to stifle a shriek, clawing up through his throat. Several drops of blood leaked out from under his teeth.

What he entered was a library. Different people made different images with their personalities. And he had to run into a witch with a damn library.

He took a deep breath. It was not Apocrypha. It was a lovely room, well lit and filled with fresh air. He sniffed. A faint herbal smell lingered in the room. There were cushioned seats in there, looking inviting and extremely comfortable. Pots with flowers and various plants stood scattered throughout the room. The ceiling was not an actual ceiling, but an endless, starry night sky. His eyes widened with wonder when he saw it. He kept looking at it for a while, mesmerized by its beauty. He almost felt tears prickle in his eyes. The sight...was divine. It...it...he felt faint memories of times forgotten creep up to his mind, bearing…

No. He tore his gaze away from the sky and shut his eyes tight. He didn't have time for that. He had to find the witch. He opened his eyes again to look around, carefully avoiding the starry ceiling.

Oh. There was a set of armour and weapons hanging on the wall, next to a bookshelf.

And there she was. Sitting in an armchair not far from the weapons, her hair falling on her back freely. She probably didn't even know what she had created. Most people didn't. Only when entering these places directly and knowingly could one actually acknowledge their presence.

He neared her carefully. She was sleeping, safe in her armchair, open book on her lap.

She suddenly snapped awake.

He stopped moving.

She looked around frantically. Her brows furrowed and her lovely face grew fierce. She knew something was amiss.

Then her large golden eyes stopped on his dark figure.

"You!" she hissed as she rose from her seat. Then she realized what else she saw and her ferocity turned to confusion. "Where the Oblivion are we?"

"In your mind's sanctuary," he said, his voice cracking a little at the mention of Oblivion.

"What?"

"I entered your dreams. This is what your mind looks like."

"You...you _what?!_ "

He ignored her outburst. "Who are you?" he asked and moved a bit closer. He tried to subtly steer her mind to answer him, but hit a wall of indomitable will.

"Why the fuck do you care? And what are you bloody doing in my head, creeping in like a...a…a bad dream?! Also, who are _you_?!" she screamed, fury returning to her. She moved closer to the weapons hanging not far from her on the wall.

He tilted his head. "My name is Miraak."

She stopped moving towards the weapons and narrowed her eyes at him. "So it's true!" She frowned. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm curious."

"About me?"

"Yes."

She looked at him with suspicion.

"Who are you, woman of the wyrd?"

"Woman of the what?" she blinked.

"Are you not a witch?" he wondered, confusion clear in his voice.

"No!" she curled her lip. Then she relaxed a bit. "My mother was."

Ah. So she carried the connection, but was not a witch herself.

"What did you call me? A woman of…?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"The wyrd."

"What's that?"

"A certain way of life, perhaps. A connection."

"And you're not going to tell me more?"

He shook his head. "Not here. Not now." He took few steps closer to her. She drew back, nearing the weapons. "How did you find me? Why?"

"Find you? What are you - oh! You mean...the other night? I didn't find you," she shook her head slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion. "I went to sleep in a dirty nest of reavers after a hard day, trying to figure out how to free my friends from _your_ mental domination, and then there I was, standing alone in darkness. I heard your voice and I followed it."

She was eyeing him up and down, very thoroughly. He shifted a bit, uncomfortable with such attention.

"What's your name?"

She blinked. Then she tilted her head and gave him a curious look. "Bernadette," she said after a while.

"Why are you here, Bernadette?"

She scoffed. "Are you serious? You sent your bloody sodding cultists to assassinate my friend!"

"What?" he recoiled. "What cultists?"

"Don't play coy with me," she snapped at him. "Two idiots came, tried to kill us all. They had orders to kill him, and your name was splattered there. They also sang praises to you to the sky and back! And the shits looked a lot like you, all masked, tentacly and in ragged robes and everything!"

"I don't have any cultists. Do you think I'd exert myself with mind control if I had willing followers?"

She scoffed. "I don't know shit about your plans, and that's what scares me. Why in Oblivion are you trying to enslave the people here? What are you doing with the stones? What do _you_ want?"

"I want to go home," he said softly.

That threw her off balance. She blinked several times, then opened her mouth and closed it without saying a word. When she raised her hand towards him and tried to ask something, he felt...a pull. He whirled around, his ragged brown robes following his wild movement.

The feeling...Apocrypha! She was touched by Apocrypha!

Of course. An agent of Mora. He growled at her and bolted.

"No! Wait, please!" her voice rang in his ears. And then he was gone.

XXX

Bernadette shot up, suddenly fully awake. She looked around.

"ZENITHAR'S ASS!"

Her angry scream woke her companions. Zura almost jumped out of her bedroll, startled by Bernadette's bellowing voice. "What? What's happening?!"

"I was talking to him! I got some information out of him, but then he bolted, just like that!"

"What? Talking to whom?" Marcurio blinked sleepily.

"Miraak!"

"He's here?" all three of her companions tensed and shot startled glances at their surroundings.

"No, not _here_ , precisely. He came to my dreams, just like last night. I think it's some version of the mind domination he has running around here."

"And you woke us up for that?" Marcurio reproached her.

"I was angry! I wanted to get more out of him. But he fled."

"Why?" Zura inquired, scribbling into her notebook furiously. A small glowing crystal was set on her knee, so she could see and write better. "And why did he come to you?"

Godric waved his hand dismissively and went back to sleep. Marcurio scoffed and followed suit.

Bernadette sat next to Zura and lowered her voice as not to disturb the men. "He said he was curious. About me. Asked me who I was and why I came here. He also called me...what was it? Woman of the wyrd?"

Zura hummed and finished writing a sentence. "You said he fled. Do you have any idea why?"

Bernadette scratched her head. "I'm not sure. We were in some sort of a library...he said it was my mind's sanctuary, or something like that. I don't understand that, really. But it was nice and warm, and there were stars, smelled nice...you know, a pleasant place. I remember...when he got scared, it grew a bit darker."

"Darker?" Zura bit on her pencil. "My, that can mean so many things."

"You mean you know something about...about...mind sanctuaries and whatnots?"

"Well, there's something called the bardic lore, you know. It's mostly stories, but I figure that all stories have some truth in them. Every time there's darkness in someone's heart or mind, bad things happen. Often caused by a demon. Or hero's own bad thoughts," Zura shrugged. "Anyway, perhaps he got scared of something menacing approaching?"

Bernadette remembered the black book. It was still in her pack. She went to fetch it and pulled the book out of it. "Could it have anything in common with this?"

Zura grew pale.

"Deadra are always ba-a-a-ad business," she whispered.

"Yea, I know. But only if you let them-"

"No. No, no, no, no. Have you not listened to my stories? Those who involve themselves with the daedra _always_ end up badly!"

"What about the Dunmer?" Bernadette raised an eyebrow. "They worship the daedra and are-"

"Fine? Really?" Zura gave her a pointed look. "Think about it for a bit. When in their recorded history were they fine?"

"You could say that about anyone, really."

"Yes, but...look. Ayleids. Worshipped daedra. Where are they now? Dead. The Dunmer. Worship daedra. Where are they now? Scattered to the winds, fighting to survive in their own homeland. Orsimer. Worship Mauloch. Malacath, basically. Where are they now? Hated, marked as beasts, fighting for survival."

"How about the Argonians, hmm? They never worshipped daedra like that. And their history sucks."

"But now they're good. And they didn't suffer during the Oblivion crisis," Zura raised her finger. "The Hist warned them and they were ready for the invasion."

"You really believe the Hist told them anything?"

"Why not? It could be an ehlfohney, for all we know. Which is next to nothing, really."

Bernadette sighed and put the black book away. "Anyway...I asked him about the cultists. He acted confused."

"Maybe there's a hidden plot and someone is trying to frame him!" Zura's eyes brightened. "And we got into an intricate net of deception, mere footsoldiers on the game board!"

Bernadette scoffed. "Or he was bullshitting me."

XXX

Fort Frostmoth was a scary place. Silent. Only the voice of the wind howled or moaned from time to time among the empty walls. Ash was covering the crumbling fortress, whispering in the wind as the specks moved from place to place.

Zura shivered. "I once heard a story about this place. How werewolves attacked and the Nerevarine had to set out and rescue general Falx Carius from them. The same the note from the ash spawn mentioned."

"There are no werewolves here."

"No." The small woman moved closer to Marcurio and slipped her hand into his. "But there are ghosts haunting this place. Forgotten souls, forever lost. I can feel it."

XXX

"I'm not going in there. I hate spiders," Zura hugged herself.

"I won't leave you alone. You're vulnerable," Bernadette frowned. "The keys to the door might be there. We need the keys."

"Can't you unlock it? With lockpicks?" Godric asked. Bernadette shook her head.

"It's enchanted, somehow. I can't really operate the lockpicks in there." She sighed. "Marc? Could you stay here with her?"

"Sure."

"Good. Look out and keep safe. We'll be back in a moment," Bernadette slashed through the thick web.

Zura nodded and picked a letter, lying on the ground next to an old skeleton, crushed by a loose boulder.

XXX

Bernadette had to admit she was glad when they left. The undead general with a heartstone in his chest made her feel even more uneasy than the whole abandoned fort.

But he was dead now. So were the ashen abominations. Raven Rock could breathe a little.

And they could continue on their journey to the temple.

Like every night since their last meeting, Bernadette tried to call out to Miraak as she slowly slipped into sleep's embrace.

XXX

This time she went straight to the darkness. The darkness where his voice echoed. She went to the voice, wondering how she got there. This inside-of-minds business was utterly confusing.

He was reciting his mantra again.

"Miraak," she called out to him, her voice a bit unsure.

The mantra stopped. The threads of light behind him dimmed a little. He lowered his arms, up to now moving as if he was weaving something in the air, and turned his mask to her.

"Again you hound me. Begone! I will not return to your master!" he growled menacingly.

Bernadette had to suppress and involuntary shiver. His voice resonated in her chest, quickening her heartbeat. The threat frightened her.

"I have no master, Miraak."

He scoffed. "You lie. You are touched by Apocrypha."

"I visited, once. I didn't really know what I was doing."

He remained silent. She could barely see him in the darkness.

"I liked it better when I could actually see you," she tried to nudge him.

He sighed heavily. She could hear the tiredness in his voice. He snapped his fingers and the darkness turned into a dimly lit space, empty and endless. She saw his lean figure not far from her. She couldn't make anything out of his face due to the mask, but she could at least watch his body language for some hints about his mood.

"One visit is enough," he murmured, his shoulders slumping a little. "You are touched. He can find you. He can sense you. And you led him to me."

"Are you trying to escape from Hermaeus Mora?"

He tilted his head. His fingers twitched. Bernadette held her breath, expecting some violent reaction.

"Yes."

That was it? She breathed out.

"Are the stones and enslavement the only way out?"

"The only way I know of."

"If you're trying so desperately to flee, why did you involve yourself with him in the first place?" she asked, folding her arms on her chest.

"To free my people."

"Your soul seems to be a rather high price to pay."

He chuckled darkly. "Have you ever fought a dragon?"

The chuckle was delightful. She felt warmth creep up to her cheeks. She bit her lip and unfolded her arms. "Yes…"

He nodded his head a bit, probably in respect for her prowess in combat. "I fought their armies. And them."

Was...was he the defiant priest?

"Why?"

"They were tyrants. Did we not deserve to be free?"

"But you failed."

"Yes," he hung his head.

She inched a bit closer to him. He snapped up, his shoulders tensing. He was watching her every move.

"Why did you look for me, specifically?"

"You were...are...a threat."

She raised her eyebrows. "How exactly? I have no magic."

He shook his head. "You are a possible threat."

"Look...if... _if_ you are telling the truth and you didn't send those cultists...I won't hurt you. I swear."

He kept watching her silently. She risked another step closer. He flinched, but didn't move away from her.

"If I am such a threat, why do you let me be here? Why won't you just...kick me out? I am defenseless."

"Not as much as you think," he grumbled. She thought she could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

She took another step closer. "That didn't answer my question."

"No."

"I bet you could do it, if you wanted to." Another step.

"I could."

"Do you not want to?" She could almost see his eyes behind the slits in the mask now.

He didn't answer. She could hear his breathing, strained for the tiniest bit.

"I'll take that as a no," she said softly and took the last step. He was a bit taller than she, which was odd. She thought he was a Nord, and a vast number of those was taller than that.

She looked into his eyes. The right one was amber, warm and almost inviting. The other was white, clouded. That was the one which flared with the terrifying glow the first time they met. Both of his eyes were moving from side to side, darting between both of her own.

"Perhaps I could help you, somehow," she continued in the soft voice. "Without torturing the people of Solstheim. That's what I often do. Help people."

He remained silent, tensed so much she could almost feel his muscles hurting.

"If you told me how. I bet there is another way. Just...give me a hint. Something. Anything. There must be a reason you let me this close. A reason you want me here. You were thinking about something, weren't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Then tell me."

"I-" he started, but then his eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder and took several steps away from her. Was he limping?

Bernadette could see the endless dim space fraying in the direction he was looking. "What is that?" she breathed out. There was something...malevolent…

"Apocrypha," he whispered. He looked back at her. His shoulders straightened and he moved closer to her. It was such a fast movement she didn't really catch it. He was just right next to her all of a sudden.

He grabbed her. She yelped as his gauntleted fingers dug into her shoulders painfully.

"Run," he whispered into her ear. She shivered.

And then he shoved her away, into darkness. She gasped and bolted, running as fast as she was able. She felt some strange force pushing her. And then everything was gone.

XXX

"Are you alright?"

Bernadette yelped and looked at the source of the voice.

She saw Zura, watching her with concern. Behind her were Godric and Marcurio, both concerned and frightened.

"Yes, yes, I am, at least I think so," she breathed out. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. She felt as if she was running not a moment ago. But she was, wasn't she? Zura sat next to her and touched her forehead.

"What happened?" Marcurio asked shakily.

"I...I...I went after him, again, to get more information. And I did. But then...I think Hermaeus Mora tried to grab us. I...ran…"

"Hermaeus Mora?!" Marcurio drew a sharp breath. "We...we're getting entangled with Hermaeus Mora?"

"Not you," Bernadette sighed. "Just I."

XXX

She was starting to get worried. She couldn't find the connection, not for several nights. What if Mora got him?

But at least they were nearing the temple. They should be there soon. Today, even. If they wouldn't freeze to death in this mountain pass, that is. She pulled her cloak closer. It wasn't even winter yet, and these weren't the highest mountains around here! How could it be so damnably cold? More so than in bloody Skyrim?

She was glad she had potions of resist frost to give to Zura. The Khajiit was stumbling through the snow in front of her, bundled in all spare clothing they had. She was slowing down, though.

"I'm so tired," Zura mumbled when Bernadette caught up with her. "I can't do it. I can't move anymore."

"You can. Come," Bernadette took Zura's hand. "I'll help you. I'll pull you up with me."

But after some time Bernadette could see that Zura was really too tired. She stopped.

"Marc!" she called out. The mage stopped and looked back. "Come here!"

"What's the matter?" he asked once he descended to them. His brows furrowed in concern. "Is Zura alright?"

"Not so much," the Khajiit mumbled, shivering and holding onto Bernadette's arm.

"Take my shield, Marc. And backpack. I'll carry her on my back," Bernadette handed the things to Marcurio. He nodded and took them.

Godric, making way for them and scouting ahead, looked back. "Is everything alright back there?" he called out to them. Marcurio made a reassuring gesture.

XXX

Godric stopped. "I think I can see remnants of a road ahead! It'll make the walk much easier! Come on, only a bit further," he called back at the rest of the group, lumbering through the snow together.

"That's good," Bernadette huffed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Marcurio asked worriedly.

"Yea, yea." The Breton readjusted her grip on Zura's thighs. "Hold on, darling, it'll get better soon."

Zura purred and pressed closer to Bernadette.

XXX

The road wound around the mountain, taking them up through a much friendlier terrain. As they made their way up, strange shapes began appearing, jutting out from the snow brokenly.

Zura soon began to look around as they ascended. Rather often. Rather startled.

"What is it?" Bernadette asked during one such moment. "What do you feel?"

"Blood," the Khajiit whispered. "And horror."

Godric, curious about the shapes, appearing more and more often, stopped by one. By the time the rest made their way to him, he managed to sweep the snow away.

They all paused, mouths agape. Before them lay a huge, ancient skeleton. Dragon skeleton.

"So…" Marcurio was the first to find his voice, "all of those suspicious shapes were dead dragons? How many did we pass?"

"More than ten."

Godric whistled and looked at Bernadette. "I'd say we found our priest."

XXX

"Do you hear that?"

Godric nodded. "Wolves. Ice wolves, probably."

"Are you sure they're not werewolves?" Zura peeped.

"No. I know a wolf when I hear one," the Nord smiled reassuringly.

XXX

The path led them to a graveyard full of dragon bones. There were so many, scattered everywhere, protruding from the snow. Bernadette stopped trying to count the skulls.

And beyond that...beyond that the temple stood.

It was a ruin. But an impressive ruin nonetheless. A dark mass of shattered battlements, contrasting almost painfully with the sunlit snow, loomed over them, as if to remind them of their own insignificance. Jagged remnants of watch towers protruded up to the sky like broken teeth, their melted structure telling of an immense heat that destroyed them.

In the distance, a single wolf howled. Its voice travelled through the mountains like a ghost, a wail of the past long forgotten.

Zura shivered and pressed her face to Bernadette's neck.

Beyond these broken ancient shapes familiar arches could be seen. And a pillar of sickly green light, going up to the sky.

"Another stone?" Bernadette squeezed her eyes. "I thought that Vermethys' marked one more to the south of here, not right in the temple."

"Seems like she got it wrong," Godric murmured. He was enthralled by the ruined magnificence of the temple, still looking at the battlements with awe in his widened eyes.

"Are those...people? Moving about? And wooden constructions?" Marcurio shielded his eyes from the sun, reflecting mercilessly from the glistening white snow.

"Let's find out. We have to go there, anyway," Bernadette headed off towards the temple.

"Do we really?" Zura shivered. "I don't want to go near that stone. No. It will take my mind away from me."


	3. Chapter 3

"These look like reavers," Marcurio broke an uneasy silence that settled upon them as they approached the temple.

"Here in his shrine," one of the ragged Dunmer exclaimed. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumping and his movement getting slower and slower with each blow of his hammer.

"They certainly do. But we have a problem," Bernadette said with worry. "There's a stone here. What if it enthralls you?"

Marcurio shrugged. He had no answer for that.

Zura whimpered.

They went up the wooden constructions, built so the workers could move freely among the ruins. They found themselves up on the battlements, with a great view of the courtyard below them.

A sprawling metal construction was being built. Supported by the arches, intricate metallic structures wound around the courtyard. In the middle of this all, a circular structure stood, situated in such a way that the stone was right in the center of it.

A large number of people kept moving around.

Bernadette looked around the courtyard. She had hoped...no. Of course not.

"Let's go," she grumbled and started to make her way down the battlements. The others followed suit.

When their feet touched the stone floor of the courtyard, Marcurio's and Zura's eyes went blank. Zura let go of Bernadette and slipped off of her back. Then she went after Marcurio, walking over to a pile of rocks, waiting to be built into something.

"That we might reclaim."

Bernadette looked at Godric with desperation. He looked frightened, his eyes widened and darting about.

She shook her head. No, she wouldn't let it be like this. The sod would listen to her, or...or he'd see. That's right. She marched over the courtyard, her boots stomping heavily on the stone, her head held high. She went straight for the stone and when she got to it, she took her gloves off. She put her hands on the stone.

It was cold. And as soon as she touched it, something tugged at her mind. A faint echo of his voice rang through her head.

She bit her lip. Her totemic necklace heated up, almost making her feel uncomfortable with its temperature. It was protecting her from him. She was glad for it, but she was also glad that there was something trying to dominate her, for it meant he was safe. For the moment.

"Miraak!" she called out, her hands still on the stone. "Miraak, can you hear me?"

The tugging at the edge of her mind became weaker. She heard a faint rustle of robes, an echo of a step. Then a wisp of a touch on her hand. Her eyes snapped open.

She could see a faint, almost fluttering silhouette of his next to the stone. His hand was resting atop hers.

"Miraak, release my friends. I need them with me. You have enough people working here," she looked at the slits in his mask. As faint as he was, she couldn't see his eyes. "The Ohmes, the khajiiti woman, and the imperial mage. I bet you can discern them from the others."

He kept looking at her, unmoving.

"Please."

Somewhere behind her a tool fell to the ground, clattering loudly. "Ooooh...what in the?" That was Marcurio's voice. She smiled.

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're here," she heard a whisper in her ear. Even as fleeting as it was, she could clearly discern the fondness in his voice. Feeling her cheeks turn red, she opened her mouth to answer. But before she could, he pulled away, startled by something unseen. His back arched, as if in pain. And then he faded away, scattering in the wind.

The totem was scalding hot. She yelped and leapt backwards, away from the stone.

"What...what did you just do?" Godric asked, his voice shaking.

"I...asked him to release Zura and Marc. Didn't you see him?" she turned around to look at Godric. He shook his head.

"I did," Zura rasped and grabbed Bernadette's hand. Bernadette squeezed it reassuringly.

Godric frowned. "I don't like this. It's one damn shady business. I hate magic. Walking dead, tearing souls from bodies, stealing people's minds..." He shuddered and then made a motion as if to wipe his hands clean.

Marcurio raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

And then they heard someone yell desperately. "You must listen to me! We must go back to the village, it's not safe here! Ysra, Ysra can you hear me?"

XXX

Damn that woman!

He hit his back hard on a familiar metallic surface. He heaved in pain.

Damn her and damn him for having such idiotic weakness for her! If not for her, Apocrypha wouldn't ever catch up to him!

Though...now that he was thinking about it, he realized that perhaps, after an eternity of loneliness, he'd have weakness for anyone willing to keep him company.

Not the time, not the time.

He groaned and slowly turned to his stomach. Then he carefully stood up, trying not to antagonize his hurting back even more than it already was. He shook his head, then winced as the movement caused him more pain. Hunched, he slowly limped away from where he landed. He didn't doubt that seekers would soon come to discipline him.

XXX

Ah. Yes, he could get to his tower from this large stone platform. It was only a short dimensional jump from here.

He scanned the surrounding area quickly.

Oh no.

He could see fluttering dark shades closing in on him over the water. He backtracked a bit, to move to a safer area. Further away from the treacherous inky mass.

With a hushed screech (how were they doing it?) first of the seekers materialized. Miraak sent a lightning bolt at it.

The bolt flew past it, not even close to its ragged robes.

Miraak cursed. He never trained hitting things with spells since he was blinded. He only focused on his own movement.

Well. He had to work with it somehow.

Quickly.

Three more seekers materialized. He whirled his hands in the air and molded crackling lightning into a scythe. With one final movement, as if he was throwing something, he sent the scythe at the monsters.

It whizzed through the air, leaving a trail of sizzling sparks behind. One of the seekers teleported to safety. The other three got caught by the scythe. The one in the middle screeched and dematerialized.

Miraak tried to run away. But his back betrayed him, the pain was too much. He had to stay and make his stand. He whipped both his arms forward, creating a whirling barrier of howling winds.

A sound wave hit his windy barrier. The winds dissipated the energy before it could reach him.

He grinned. With swift, elegant motions of his arms he formed more scythes beyond the barrier and released them with a growl. As each of the scythes hit something, he hurled his arms upwards and clenched his fists. The energy burst into novas, swiping the whole platform clear of any enemies.

Miraak, his breathing quickened with excitement, lowered his arms. With a flicker of his wrists he cleared the winds and took several steps forward.

Then he stopped. He tilted his head. Apocrypha felt...weaker. Less binding. Have his conduits thinned the barrier between the realms?

Whatever it was, it meant he would be able to cross soon.

More whispers.

He turned around. A group of seekers just arrived, their black eyes piercing him.

He smiled.

"GOL HAH DOV!"

XXX

"...the time comes soon, when-" he was just telling Sahrotaar, whom he summoned from the deepest, darkest depths of Apocrypha, where he had been imprisoned along with the rest of his dragons. He stopped. He felt a presence enter the realm.

"What?" he turned around, alert for any possible danger. He saw a frayed figure, still regaining its shape. Lightning shot out of his hands and engulfed the figure in a sizzling stream.

It screamed in agony and fell to its knees.

He stopped the stream. As the figure lifted its head, he slowly limped closer.

It was a man. A boy, more likely. Blond, wide eyed and freckled.

"Who are you to dare set foot here?" Miraak, towering above him, demanded sharply. When the boy didn't answer, he looked at him with the Sight.

"Aaah..." he prolonged thoughtfully. "You are Dragonborn. And yet…" he narrowed his Seeing eye at the boy, "you have done little beyond killing a few dragons." Pathetic. "You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!" his voice intensified. This pup, this jovial excuse for a Dragonborn dared to cross his path?

"MUL QAH DIIV!" he invoked his spiritual dragon. He watched with delight how the boy's jaw dropped. He moved a bit closer.

"This realm is beyond you. You have no power here." Nor on Nirn, probably. "It is only a matter of time before Solstheim is mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish the building of my temple, and I can return home."

Miraak turned his back to the boy. "Send him back where he came from," he growled at the seekers under his control, "he can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel."

As the seekers sent their draining magic at the boy, he mounted Sahrotaar. He patted the dragon's neck. Sahrotaar roared and took flight.

XXX

Godric slowly stopped being transparent. Bernadette watched with a concerned expression. She knew how it felt.

Once he was fully himself, Frea approached him. "What happened to you? You read the book and then... It seemed as though you were not really here. I could see you, but also see through you!" she exclaimed wildly.

Bernadette rolled her eyes. She was starting to have just enough of this brash Skaal girl.

Godric turned his eyes to her. Eyes full of adoration and a clearly smitten smile. "I...I'm not really sure what happened."

Bernadette scoffed. She _was_ sure.

"But I saw Miraak."

Bernadette perked up. So did Frea.

"Where? Where is he? Can we reach him? Can we kill him?" she wanted to know, her voice rough with desire to kill.

"Whoa, aren't you two a little too thirsty for blood? Must we start there?" Bernadette placed herself between the two Nords. "Can't we do something else?"

Both of them looked at her with confusion.

"He's enslaved my people. They toil by day and night on an accursed, unnatural structure against their will. My people must be freed, or else they will die. So Miraak must be slain," Frea explained as if she was talking to an unruly child.

"Or we could persuade him to stop dominating them?" Bernadette folded her arms on her chest and raised an eyebrow at Frea. "Have you thought about that?"

"And how would we do that?" Frea challenged.

"Simple. Talk to him. All he wants is to-"

"Do we have to discuss this here?" Zura peeped. "I'm scared out of my wits right now. I want to leave this...this shrine." She was holding onto Marcurio, who had one arm wrapped around her shoulders reassuringly. He was holding a magical light in the other.

Bernadette's face softened. "Of course. Sorry, kit," she smiled gently.

Frea snorted. "We should return to my village, and show this," she pointed to the black book Godric was still holding, "to my father. Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on. Come, there looks to be a way out through here," she set out.

XXX

"Well, since Godric is chirping in their little meditation circle and drooling at Frea's lap, how about we sit down and think about what we've learnt?" Bernadette flipped through her notebook.

Zura sat on the bench next to her. "Sure. But I have a feeling that Godric won't go against Frea's and Storn's wishes."

Marcurio sat next to Zura, so the Ohmes was in the middle. He put his hand on her back and began to trace circles gently across it. "I agree. Maybe we...maybe we could let him deal with this? He _is_ the Dragonborn, after all."

Bernadette shook her head. "No, leaving him to deal with all of...this...would only end in blood and despair, for everyone."

"But how long do we have?" Zura mused. "I think we need to act as quickly as possible."

"Maybe you could convince him to let the people just go?" Marcurio grumbled. "He seems to listen to you, pig head."

Bernadette shot him an annoyed glance. "With bears, I am content. But if you continue derogating me, I will harm you." She untied her hair and started to ruffle it. "I don't think he would listen in this matter. He sees it as the only way out of there. And, according to everything, he's close to escaping."

Marcurio frowned. "Anyway...I don't really see any option right now but to go to Saering's Watch. We'll see what we find there, what mysterious power of old your masked friend gained."

XXX

Zura stopped, her complaints silenced for a moment.

The light of late autumn sun was reflecting from the remnants of once mighty glacier, painting a mesmerizing game of sparkles and deep blue shadows.

"Wow," Marcurio joined in her amazement. They stood silently together and watched as the light danced across the jagged teeth of ice, reaching for the sky.

Bernadette's jackdaw darted through the air and found its way on the Breton's shoulder.

XXX

"This is a damned ruin! What, by Talos' beard, are we supposed to find here?!" Godric tried to shout over the howling winds.

"Maybe a dragon?"

"What would a-"

"I wasn't joking! There's a fucking dragon, and it's taking off!"

XXX

She was ready now. When the dragon stopped in the air to engulf them in flames, she aimed carefully with her crossbow. The dragon opened its maw.

 _Whiz!_

A bolt, heavy with a vial fastened to it, buried itself in its mouth. The flames, already going up the dragon's throat, destroyed the vial.

It coughed as an explosion went up in it's throat. Its wings faltered. With a loud screech, it flapped the wings desperately in an attempt to regain height. As it did, a trail of sparkly pink dust followed its head.

Bernadette grinned and reached for another bottle. Acid, this time.

XXX

Bernadette hit the ground. Breath escaped her lungs. The dead dragon crashed into the snow a bit further away.

An arrow bounced off of her armour.

She scoffed. Did she have to do _everything_? She was starting to have enough of it. She killed the dragon and the others didn't even manage to take care of the bloody draugr?

Well, of course they didn't. Marcurio was making sure Zura was safe and Godric was too afraid of those damned things to actually do some real damage.

She got up with several groans. By Mara, she felt so tired. Zura was immediately by her side and put a healing potion in her hand. Bernadette smiled at her. Then she downed the potion and went to retrieve Bearclaw, still stuck inside the dragon. Time to kill the sodding, divines forgotten shamblers.

XXX

Godric took the word from the wall. Then, hair still ruffled by that experience, he went to take the dragon's soul. Bernadette, sitting by the corpse and cleaning her sword, grimaced. She mumbled something under her breath, gently scratched her jackdaw and turned back to the blade.

Godric stopped beside the corpse. It began to disintegrate, little golden specks floating up from it.

Bernadette snapped up.

He was here.

Miraak appeared out of nowhere. One moment, there was an empty space, the other it was filled with his form. He was slightly translucent, as if not really present. He turned to Godric, who took several steps back, his hand reaching for a weapon.

"Not this time."

Bernadette felt a tug. Something in the air around them shifted, changed. Miraak reached out, beckoning. The mass of golden specks, still emanating from the dead dragon, swirled once, twice around them all and then, almost reluctantly, found its way to Miraak.

"Do you ever wonder if it hurts?" Miraak's voice echoed in the bewildered silence. "To have one's soul ripped out like that?" He almost sounded sad.

Bernadette shivered. She never thought of that.

The last of the dragon's soul settled in Miraak. He chuckled. Bernadette breathed in sharply. That voice. That damn voice. So divine. She took the tiniest step closer to him, her fingers twitching.

He made a mocking bow, then disappeared.

XXX

"Luckily enough, I still have some draconic power left," Godric grumbled. "I only need to sit and meditate on the word. It should come to me."

"Get on with it, then," Marcurio patted Godric's shoulder. "We have stones to cleanse."

Bernadette remained silent, her eyes lost in the distance.

XXX

"GOL!"

A colourful swirl of energies flew from Godric and went through the Wind stone. The Skaal, working on the daedric structures around it, dropped what they were doing. Their minds returned to them.

The ground beneath their feet grumbled.

Light began to emanate from the darkened obelisk.

The arches began to crack. The cracks were tiny at first, but they grew with every second. BOOM! Suddenly the arches exploded, showering everyone with stone splinters.

With a deep, displeased hum, a monster rose from the pool of ink surrounding the stone.

XXX

"NO!"

Miraak grabbed his head in a vain attempt to suppress a sudden outburst of pain. He screamed in agony, bending, falling down to his knees.

The bond was gone! Gone!

That accursed boy must have meddled with his conduits! One of the stones has fallen!

XXX

"Aren't you glad the Skaal are free?"

"I am, Marc, but…"

"But?"

"I think I heard a cry of pain when the structure exploded."

Marcurio rested his chin on his entwined hands. "Ah. So you're worried about your spectral boyfriend," he drawled.

"Har, har. Not every affection has to be like that," she frowned at him.

"No. But you are as insufferably infatuated as Godric is with Frea. Anyway, before you try to tear my throat out for mentioning her, I'd like to know what you intend to do next. Godric isn't doing anything for Miraak. Frea wants that sod dead."

Bernadette sighed. "I'm going to convince Godric to free the Beast stone next. It's close to Thirsk, where the "odd expert on daedric bullshit" lives. Maybe he could give me some insight."

"Or swat you with a tentacle. What if he's the bad kind of expert? The one who got involved too much?"

Bernadette shrugged. She had no bloody idea.

XXX

"What is it?" Zura came running, all bristled. Bernadette was sitting by the table, her face wrought with desperation.

"All the sweets are gone," the Breton mumbled, her voice cracking a bit.

"Well, maybe we could bake some?"

"I don't have the ingredients. And I won't be getting them here…"

Zura sighed. "Alright. I didn't really want to do this, since you silly humans can't deal with moon sugar, but...but here," she reached inside her jacket and pulled a small pouch out, "here are some traditional khajiiti candies. Be extremely careful with them, darling."

Bernadette beamed and reached for the pouch. "I will, don't worry."

XXX

Small blue people were working on the Beast stone.

"I think these are called Rieklings," Zura said. "There are mentions of them in ancient nordic songs. I also heard that some believe they're what remains of the Snow elves."

Bernadette scoffed. "Well, we know that a belief like that wouldn't know truth if it got hit with it."

"And who's that?" Godric pointed to a slightly taller figure. It was running around the stone angrily, arms flailing wildly in the air. Sometimes it stopped and kicked the stone. Then it hopped on the other foot for a while, holding the hurting one. Atronachs of all kinds were moving about, trying to carry the little blue workers away from the stone or smash the structure around it.

A huge boar was standing close by, picking through the snow in search for food. It seemed like the boar was saddled.

Bernadette exchanged a look with Marcurio. "I guess that would be our daedric expert. It's short enough to be a Bosmer."

"Are you sure we want to ask him about...anything?" Godric raised an eyebrow.

Bernadette frowned. "Yes."

XXX

It was a Bosmer. He was a tiny bit taller than Zura, rather muscular and dressed in something that looked like a wildling's robe. It was green, dirty, adorned with all manner of wooden sticks and effigies, and, in several places, torn. Over it he wore a leather armour of unusual design, covered heavily with furs. A large axe, primitive, with somewhat jagged blade, was hanging from his belt, and on his back he carried a massive longbow with a quiver full of arrows.

As for the Bosmer himself, he was tanned, his features were sharp like those of most of the mer, but a large portion of them was hidden by his long hair and beard of dark brown colour with reddish hints to it. His hair, very messily pulled back in several braids and decorated with wooden beads, circles and small bone-like carvings, reached all the way to his waist. The beard, also braided and adorned by wooden decorations, reached up to his chest. He wore a black warpaint around his eyes, making their sharply green colour almost glow from their darkened surroundings. His thick eyebrows, furiously furrowed, only added to the wild, a bit terrifying look.

"Fuck you, you stupid ass-whooping tentacled duffer!" he was shaking his fist at the stone. His voice was strangely deep and rough for someone so small. He spoke fast, words shot out of his mouth like bolts from Bernadette's crossbow. "Hear me? Smellfungus! Cackling idiot! You have no place here! No one be wanting you here, you rakepile! Get out! I be coming for your eye, I be coming to fuck you over, hear me? Aaaaaaaarghrgagrh!"

As they approached, slowly, exchanging confused glances, the boar lifted its head. It looked at them, then snorted rather loudly.

The Bosmer whirled around. All of the atronachs followed his movement and fixed their eyes at the approaching group.

There was at least fifteen of them.

"Ha!" he narrowed his eyes at them. "A portent be approaching. Who goes there? Be you fopdoodles? Or be you some naive twits? What do you want?! Can't you see that I've got work to do?"

"Screaming at rocks sounds very productive indeed," Marcurio mumbled under his breath. The Bosmer snapped up and fixed his biting bright eyes at the mage. His gaze was so intent Marcurio soon pulled his head between his shoulders and backed away a bit.

"You'd be surprised what rocks can do," he lifted both of his brows and opened his eyes wide.

"Are you Firan?" Bernadette decided to interfere.

He looked at her, scowling again. "Yes, yes, that be my name. What do you want? You stink," he wrinkled his nose.

Bernadette raised an eyebrow. Coming from someone dressed in overly worn robes and smelling of boar, it felt rather undeserved. Speaking of boars, the huge one not far from them was definitely saddled. Judging from the looks of the saddle and saddlebags, stuffed with various strange items sticking out of them, it must have been Firan's mount.

"Where did you get my name?" he asked suspiciously.

Best to do something quickly. She didn't like how his teeth glistened when he curled up his lip. "Vermethys said to talk to you about daedric matters."

His face brightened. He smiled, revealing pristine white teeth, looking uncomfortably sharp. Almost like Zura's. "That old hag? Oh, ye, she be great. How be she? Ye, ye, sure, you can talk to me 'bout daedric shit." He tilted his head and furrowed his brows in thought. "Did she give you something for me? She should have. She be taking bloody long to deliver what she promised. I be starting to get fucking impatient!"

"Deliveries can wait," Godric, starting to get nervous, interfered. Firan shot him a glance. If looks could kill, the Nord would be disintegrated. "We have an important task to finish. Let us free the stone and then you can...talk."

"Free the stone? How be you doing that, huh? How, sweet little dandelion?" he folded his arms on his chest. "There be the other zounderkite, who be less fucked in the head than the big tentacle. The tentacle has no head. 'Cause the smaller fucker be not a daedra, you see? Nah, you don't. Too howling in the head for that," he waved his hand dismissively. "But he be shagging the stones. You can understand that, can't you? Nope. Big head. Small brain." His eyes wandered lower. "Big pants, I see. A rantallion. Ye, ye."

Godric growled. "Will you shut up, little man? I am Dragonborn. Nothing can stand before me."

"He's got strangely cocky over the past two weeks," Zura whispered to Bernadette. The taller woman huffed in agreement,

Firan's eyes narrowed and he smiled. It was a predator's smile.

"No? No? She can," he pointed to Bernadette. "He can," he pointed to the stone. "Heck, even the cat can, she be looking smart. Maybe you got some little trick in your pants. Let's see the trick, dandelion."

Godric snorted and began to walk towards the stone. He walked straight up to Firan, standing there with his arms folded. He didn't even come up to Godric's shoulders.

The Nord frowned and reached for the Bosmer, standing in his way, to shove him.

Firan had a knife in his hand all of a sudden. The tip of the jagged blade was resting on Godric's unprotected arm pit, revealed by the motion he had made.

"Try to touch me and I be gutting you, dandelion," he smiled rabidly, baring his teeth. All atronachs neared the two men, closing in menacingly. The boar grunted, looking at Godric intently. It had damn large tusks.

Godric drew a sharp breath. He backtracked few steps, pulled his arm back and went around Firan. The elf kept watching him, slowly turning after him, the knife still raised.

Bernadette released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. Odd indeed. And something was telling her that this little fellow would be harder than a dragon to deal with.

As if he heard her thought, he glanced at her over his shoulder and winked, smiling jovially.

Zura shivered. "I don't know whether to be excited we met someone so interesting or afraid what he might do to us," she whispered to Bernadette. "Do you think he'll attack the fish monster? We don't need to fight, right?"

"Probably not," Marcurio noted. "I get the impression that this expert doesn't like the daedra at all."

"Good." Zura grabbed them both by a hand. "I need a little emotional support, please," she said, her throat tightening.

XXX

He felt his chest tightening, threatening to burst. No. No, no, no, no, no!

Which of the stones was it? He jumped from connection to connection. There! The Beast stone!

He shrieked in pain. He bent, clutching his stomach. The pain, the pain! As if someone put molten metal into his veins instead of blood!

Screaming, he pushed on. Little by little. He needed to get a look at who was destroying his shrines. To get their scent, so he could hunt for their minds.

One of the lurkers delved below the surface of the inky ocean.

Miraak fell to his knees. His screams echoed through the silent library, shaking it almost to the core.

But he could reach out. He could. He did.

His inquisitive mental fingers found something. He brushed on the surface of it. Young mind, simple, proud. The dragon, the dragon boy.

He began to lose his voice, growing ever hoarser from the screaming.

The boy couldn't be the only one! He reached further. Ah. The madman, the raving elf. But he was not involved in this, no, he was watching. Possibly ready to kill the lurker. No, the elf never wanted to harm Miraak specifically, their earlier clashes had established that much.

So who?!

With a groan he reached up to his momentary limits, his body trembling under the strain. His jaw dropped. The cat. The mage. And the wyrd woman. _Bernadette_ , he remembered.

She betrayed him. That lying swivel, she betrayed him! He coughed, choking on blood pouring out of his throat and mouth. Of course! She played on his shattered mentality, she played him to get to him, to get him lower his guard, and then the boy could use his own shout against him!

Gasping for breath desperately, he began to crawl away.

Time to unbind himself from the remaining stones. Time to come up with a different plan...time to find a soul and rip. It. Out.

XXX

They returned to Thirsk with the rieklings. They treated Firan as their chieftain, and some of them even spoke common tameric, although in a very, very broken manner.

Only the women went to the back of the hall with Firan. Marcurio and Godric, feeling uneasy around the elf, stayed by the front door, looking at the rieklings with distrust.

As Firan spoke to the little blue people in their guttural language, Zura pulled her notebook, almost filled up, and began to scribble.

"What be that?" Firan looked up, curious. "What be you writing, cat?"

"I'm making notes. I would like to have a character like you in my book," she answered, unsure whether he would like that idea or abhor it.

He grinned, then he fluffed the fur around his shoulders. "My! The little cat be a wordy cat! And she be liking ME! Ye, ye, write, little cat. Write about how daedra are ba-a-a-a-ad motherfuckers."

Zura smiled. "My thoughts exactly."

He laughed heartily. "See? The cat sure be smart! I like you, cat. What be your name, cat?"

"Zura."

"Zura. Zura, Zura, Zura…" he muttered under his breath. "Nice name. So," he clapped his hands, "you wanted something from me, right, big woman?" He tilted his head. "And you had something FOR me."

Bernadette took the bundle Vermethys gave her and offered it to him. "Yes. Delivery from Vermethys."

He snatched it, feral look in his eyes. Again, almost as if it materialized from thin air, the jagged knife appeared in his hand. He sliced the cord binding the bundle in several swift experienced movements.

As he unpacked it, a wide content smile spread across his face. There were several small, very nicely carved wooden boxes inside. He opened one and sniffed.

"Ye, that be the stuff!" he grinned and pulled a wooden pipe from somewhere inside his robes. He stuffed it with the smoking weed and then lit it with small fire he summoned on his thumb. He wiggled his behind to make himself more comfortable in his seat.

"So, what be that you want, big woman?"

"I wanted to ask about Miraak. Him and Mora. Is it possible to get him out without killing him?"

He grunted. "You be asking 'bout Mora?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "Nah, shush, I know you be not. Why you be asking 'bout the little zounderkite? Ye, old as rocks. But he still be a zounderkite."

Suddenly he leaned forward. He narrowed his eyes at Bernadette and examined her face thoroughly. She stared right back at him, defiant.

"You got guts," he clicked his tongue. "But you be touched! You be needing cleansing? That be what you want?"

"Cleansing?"

"Ye." He leaned back again, resting against the back of the seat. "Be cleansed from Mora. Be no longer marked."

"You could do that?"

"Ye. I figured how to. It be hard, but possible."

"Could you cleanse Miraak?"

He shook his head. "No. Not while he be in Apocrypha. Mora be watching him, he be wanting him to do things for him. Also, with the zounderkite, not while he be resisting me. He got rightly mighty will. Too much for me. Almost got me pinned to the stone, he did."

Zura tapped her notebook. "And is there a way for us to steal Miraak away from Apocrypha? From under Mora's nose?"

Firan released a circle of smoke. "There may be a way. A difficult one. It be similar to summoning atronachs - open a path, then pull through, like a thief. It be possible from our side, the stealing, see? Not theirs, not since the Crisis and Dragonfires. But, as I be saying, Mora be watching him. He be a danger for us."

"And if he wasn't, you could pull Miraak through?"

He shrugged. "Possibly. If I be having aid from some skilled mage. Maybe if you be convincing the hag."

"You mean Vermethys? Why do you call her a hag?"

He chuckled. "'Cause she be old. Older than we combined. Shrewd old women be called hags, no?"

"She doesn't seem that old."

He tilted his head. "You be not looking rightly at her," he said with all seriousness. Then he clicked his tongue. "But true, she be looking delightful. A pity she be sleeping only with that boring wizard of hers."

Bernadette waved her hands. "Back to track. So if we convince her to help you, you will open a way and pull Miraak through?"

He nodded. "And if you be finding a way to distract Mora. I be very glad to fuck with him, but I be fond of my life." He furrowed his brows. "I also be needing something in return. A favour, big woman. One that be helping with the stealing, too."

"What is it?"

"I be needing all the black books. There be a number of them on the island. That be why I came here in the first place."

"What do you want with them?"

He grinned. "I want to throw them into other prince's realms. You know, so they can fight over why that be happening. So fucking Mora be gathering his books before he can screw with Nirn anew." He tugged at his beard. "So you be keeping the mark for now. It may be useful. For finding the books."

XXX

At every stone they visited, Bernadette listened intently for Miraak's voice.

She heard nothing.

XXX

Bernadette went to knock on Vermethys' door. Soon after she did, the Dunmer opened.

"Hello, Bernadette," she smiled warmly. "So, tell me, how does your quest fare? Are you doing good, hm? Have you visited Firan?"

"Yes, I have."

She giggled. "And how did you like him?"

"Eh. When you know how to talk around him, he's bearable. I'm a bit scared of him, though. But he seems to have taken liking to Zura. Even asked her name."

"Really? That's good, good. Did he give you any advice?"

"He did, actually. And some of it involved you. May I come in?"

"But of course. Tea?" Vermethys smiled.

XXX

Yes! This night, this night she finally found him again.

But…

She looked around. This place was really horrendous. It was Apocrypha, true, but...different. It was dark here, so damnable dark. The usual metallic pathway wound between menacing piles of books, creating even more dark corners and casting incredibly long shadows.

Small whirring lights were flying in the still air. One stopped above her for a moment, then darted away. As it did and darkness engulfed her, she began to choke.

Gasping for breath, she hurried towards a flickering magical light, illuminating Miraak's figure in the distance.

He was hunched, leaning heavily on a stone table. His shoulders were slumped and there was a staff with an ugly lurker head lying on the table.

Once she neared him enough to actually catch her breath in the light, he looked up, startled. Then he noticed her.

His shoulders straightened, but she could see exhaustion in his pose, still leaning on the table. She opened her mouth.

"Begone," he commanded. As he did, he raised a shaking hand.

Bernadette felt as if someone hit her with a hammer. All air escaped her lungs. She huffed and bent over, almost losing her footing. Invisible cords of magicka wound around her. Another hit. And another. The cords yanked her away, away from him, and almost ripped her apart in the process.

With last blow of invisible force she lost consciousness.

XXX

"This was the last one," Godric huffed and wiped sweat away from his forehead, which made the ash gathered on his skin smudge. "We should go to the village and tell Frea...tell Storn that we freed the land."

Bernadette wiped her goggles from lurker blood. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Storn said we should go consult Neloth about the black books, remember?"

Vermethys, who decided to accompany them on the quest after the black books, tidied her hair. "Yes, if anyone will know something about the books or how they connect all the dots together, it's going to be him. He's a pain in the ass, but he knows what he's doing. Usually."

XXX

"Another dark dank hole?" Godric complained. "Is there someone in the whole world who doesn't need anything from places like these?"

"A hole?" Vermethys gasped dramatically. "Young man, these are no mere _holes_. These are dwemer ruins. And not just any dwemer ruins. The Sinking city!"

"I don't know whether to be more excited about documenting these ruins or seeing you fight," Bernadette commented. "What _is_ that technique you use, Vermethys? I've never seen anything like it."

"It's magic," Marcurio noted.

"Yea, I can see that," Bernadette retorted. "But it's unusual magic."

Vermethys smiled. "It's just a couple of tricks."

"Tricks? I saw you hurl a javelin made of restoration energy at someone and pierce them with it," Zura, wideyed, added her own bit to the pile.

"It's not restoration, that's just modern name...my masters called it aedric energy. Oh, but look at me, boring you youngsters with my hazed memories." She rubbed her hands together and several golden sparks of energy darted upwards. "Let's go get those cubes, shall we? Neloth is tapping his foot, can you see that?"

XXX

"Ugh. Do we have to go there? It's...muck. Salty muck."

Bernadette raised an eyebrow. "We do, we need the cube. More precisely, you need the the cube, no? To impress Frea, to save the land. Also, I have heavy armour, I can't go there. Hop in, hero."

XXX

"What the Oblivion is that?!"

"Oh, what?"

"That you don't sink like a rock in that armour!"

"I drank a potion of water walking. And I'm walking on water, albeit below surface. Alchemy is great, isn't it?"

Godric growled and kept swimming for the exit.

XXX

"So now we can finally take the book from the reading room?"

"Watch out! A centurion!"

"Shit!"

"I've got you covered," Vermethys jumped forward. She formed a javelin out of blinding golden light, then hurled it at the centurion. It hit the metal chest and made the construct stagger few steps back.

Vermethys raised one arm, her fingers clenching as if she was grasping something. Then she quickly moved the arm down, tearing something down with it. A huge ball of golden energy crashed on top of the centurion. Golden flames began to dance around it.

Vermethys laughed, reaching out. A beam of holy light shot from her palm, hitting the centurion. She threw several balls of swirling light at it, all the while maintaining the beam.

The machine melted.

XXX

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I've already been there, and I came back just fine."

"Didn't you say that you jumped in and then Miraak evicted your ass right out?" Marcurio asked.

"I've been through one of these. All of it. It was hard, to make it. Please, I don't want to-"

"Shut up, Bernadette! You always patronize me, treat me like a helpless child! You know what?! I'm not one! Also, I need the shout! How could you give me a shout, when you have no sodding idea about the thu'um? Huh?!"

Bernadette recoiled, her expression turning flat. "As you wish. Go, then."

XXX

Marcurio, chatting with Vermethys and Neloth, kept making notes furiously. They've been at it for a while.

Zura was sitting beside Bernadette, singing quietly and braiding her hair. The Breton kept looking nowhere, her gaze distant, her expression drooping.

Godric's translucent form was standing by the reading table, black book in hands.

XXX

Zura stopped singing. She squeezed Bernadette's shoulder. "Look, look!"

All heads turned to Godric. He was slowly turning corporeal again. He took a shaky breath, then released it. As he did, he slowly, ever so slowly, crumpled to the ground. The black book hit the floor with a loud thud.

Bernadette was the first to get to him.

She knelt by him. Zura followed suit. They heard the air escape his chest. Then it grew still.

"Godric?" Bernadette patted his cheek. "Godric!"

No reaction.

Zura touched his neck, searching for pulse. Then she tried his wrist. She turned her large eyes to Bernadette. "He...he's dead."


	4. Chapter 4

Bernadette was clutching the black book close to her chest.

He killed him.

Miraak killed him.

"We should bury him, no?" Zura asked softly.

Bernadette nodded.

"Maybe take something of his for his family..." Zura trailed off. She knelt next to Godric's corpse. She took his amulet of Talos and hid it in her pocket. "We should ask the Skaal if they'd bury him. I think he'd like that."

When no one answered, Zura shrugged. Then she went to ask Vermethys for aid, since the Dunmer knew levitation and feather spells.

XXX

"Another book? So fast? You be efficient," Firan grinned as he snatched the heavy tome from Bernadette's hands.

"Is there a way to bind him like an atronach?" Bernadette asked. It was the first time she spoke since Godric's death, excluding her little farewell during the burial.

Firan raised an eyebrow at her and scratched his beard.

"Why you be asking that?"

"That's my business," she frowned at him.

"Not if you be wanting to do some nasty shit," he growled from the depth of his throat.

"He's dangerous, alright? But I...all of us...need a bloody Dragonborn. To kill the World-Eater. I didn't catch much of it while we were up there, because the dotards didn't talk to me, but it sounded important. The last one we had, died. The only I know of, if what Storn said was true, is Miraak. And he simply doesn't seem like someone willing to help us save the world."

"So you be wanting to command him to do so?" Firan put the book away and looked at Bernadette questioningly. "He be not the type for that."

"I don't care. He will kill the World-Eater, and that's that. If he decides to kill me afterwards and grab the power in Skyrim, so be it. At least the world won't end."

Zura's jaw dropped. She quickly covered her mouth with both her hands.

Firan shook his head. "It be your life, do what you will with it." He caressed his beard. "There might be a way, ye. I be hearing things 'bout heartstones. Those glowy red rocks, you see?" He opened his eyes wide, raised his eyebrows and looked at Marcurio, standing reluctantly in the corner. "Mighty important rocks, see, stick? There be power in those rocks." He turned to Vermethys, his brows knitting in thought. "You be saying the mushroom guy be experimenting with heartstones?"

"Yes, he is. He's trying to duplicate the transformative resurrection used in old rites. But instead of a briar, he wants to use the stone."

Firan shook his head. "We be not doing that. But we might be needing his research. To harness the stones, see? I believe the stones could be used for a ritual. Power base. One of them be binding him, and then you be using it as an anchor of the bond, to control him. I know a rite for something like that, ye. But to make sure this be working? I need to know more. 'Bout the stones. From mushroom guy. I also be needing the book he has," he raised his eyebrows at Bernadette, nid-nodding.

Vermethys clapped her hands together. "I'll take care of that," she said with confidence, "Neloth owes me. And he kinda likes me, so I have leverage."

"Good," Bernadette stood up, "I will gather these heartstones. How many?"

"Don't know," Firan shrugged. "But the more the better."

XXX

Marcurio pulled his cloak, fluttering wildly in the howling wind, closer to his body. "Must we really spend time on this accursed island?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Haven't you been paying attention?!" Bernadette snapped. "We need a fucking Dragonborn. Now shut up and move, we have to get out of the mountains as soon as possible."

"But why are we traipsing around here, searching for a godforsaken smith? Why are we doing favours for every single wretched sod that asks?"

"Because we need the Skaal to help us in regards of getting at least _some_ information on Miraak. Have you ever tried to think beyond your own stupidity and short sightedness?"

"Perhaps we should just ask them! It would certainly be faster and easier than searching for a blacksmith in the middle of snowy nowhere!"

"Well, if you hate it here so bloody much then LEAVE!"

"Maybe I will!" Marcurio growled.

Zura, nestled on Bernadette's back, stifled a sorrowful sigh. It would only make the matter worse.

XXX

"Historian Tharstan? So you're alive? That's good news," Bernadette smiled a little. Zura saw it and nodded to herself contentedly. "What can I help you with?"

"I heard from Deor how you went in search of Baldor. That was very brave, and in fact, that's just the kind of courage I'm looking for."

"Oh?

"As a scholar of history, I've always found Solstheim to be most intriguing. I've made many forays into the ancient ruins that cover the island. I've come to know those ruins so well, I could draw you a map from memory. That's why I noticed the new passage the moment I laid eyes on it."

"A new passage to what?" Bernadette asked, her dark moods forgotten for the moment.

"An old tomb, I think. It must have been opened by an earthquake that accompanied one of the Red Mountain's eruptions. I'd love to have a closer look, but those old ruins can be dangerous and I'm no adventurer. I'll pay you to watch my back down there. I'll be heading back there soon. If you're interested, meet me at the ruins and we'll see what we can find. Now I'm off to pack for the expedition!"

Bernadette looked at Zura with a wide grin. "We're going on an expedition! Oh, we should pack too!" The jackdaw began hopping on Bernadette's shoulder happily, seeing its master teeming with life again.

Zura grinned. "Let's look for some good food."

Marcurio, standing a bit aside, scoffed.

XXX

"So you really _do_ read that old language!" Bernadette exclaimed, leaning forward in excitement.

"Ah, well, yes. It took a lot of time to learn it, but I did in the end. It's the language of the dragons," the old man smiled. "So, what do you think the riddle refers to?"

XXX

"I'm certainly putting the draugr in my book. Especially how many are there. To mock the silly Nords! This is unbelievable!"

"I hear Morrowind is much worse in the matters of undeath."

"Urgh."

XXX

"I will cross it. I'm the fastest and the most agile of us."

"But Zura! Did you see those eyes and hear the splashing of water in the darkness down there?" Bernadette pointed downward. "There are things in the water. They'll kill you if you fall."

"I won't fall. Darling, I am the best suited for this, let me help."

"I actually agree with her," Marcurio frowned. "It's too dangerous for you. You should stay here, safe."

The women turned to him and both frowned.

"Alright," Bernadette looked back at Zura, "but if you fall, I'm jumping in after you."

XXX

The round door of the hall of stories opened slowly with innumerable sounds of stone scraping against stone.

They pushed forward.

"This must be the main tomb," Zura looked around. "I don't feel good about this place. There's a lot of hatred here."

"Oh, look, another rune wall!" Tharstan pointed out excitedly.

All heads turned in that direction.

Bernadette's and Zura's eyes widened.

"No, Tharstan, stop!" Zura screamed, reaching for the old man but grasping nothing.

Bernadette charged forward. She grabbed the historian and threw him back towards the entrance of the tomb. The lid of a stone sarcophagus, placed right in front of the wall, flew high into the air.

It hit the ground with a loud, rumbling sound.

A shriek of an ancient, almost shattered voice of an undead echoed through the tomb. A priest in tattered robes rose from the sarcophagus. It had no mask. Only a golden crown sitting on its brow.

It turned its empty eyes at the intruders and rose a bit higher in the air. As it drew a dagger and a sword, made of the same glistening golden metal as its crown, Bernadette raised her shield, reaching for Bearclaw hastily.

XXX

Tshhhhhck.

A sparkle of flaming energy arched through the air.

Marcurio shoved Zura out of the way and jumped forward to shield both her and Bernadette, trying to put out flames on her sleeve. He raised a ward with both his hands, grasping his staff firmly.

Boom!

The sparkle exploded into a fireball.

Marcurio's ward rippled. But it held intact.

The undead priest emerged from the flames, still roaring all around them, with an outraged wail and stabbed forward with its sword.

XXX

Not only was it keeping the room full of fire, it was also an excellent swordsman. Bernadette grunted as the golden blade, shimmering in the violent flare of magical flames, hit her shield again. It bit in deep. The hit shook her arm. She fought for control of her own limb, trying not to let go of the shield.

The priest pulled back with all the might of undeath.

She had to let go.

Almost ripping her arm off, the priest tore the shield away from her. It cackled.

Whirling streams of fire, darting around the room, all turned to Bernadette and sped up. She yelped and jumped out of the way. The flames licked her face.

She risked a quick glance back.

Zura just finished dragging Marcurio out of the door.

The priest attacked without warning. Both golden blades swung. Bernadette barely had enough time to lift Bearclaw.

The blades met.

With a sound of thousand windows shattering, the volcanic sword broke into pieces.

Bernadette blinked at the broken hilt in her hand.

The priest cackled. It growled some words in a mocking tone, then pointed its sword at Bernadette's chest. A gust of flame hit her. She screamed. Even with the protection of her breton blood and the totemic amulet, the heat was just too much. The tomb filled with the smell of burnt hair and cloth. The jackdaw, fluttering around her, got incinerated.

The torrent of flame pushed her to a wall. She hit her back. Then she sobbed as she felt her bond to the jackdaw dissipate.

The priest emerged from the raging inferno, untouched, showing off its lipless grin.

Bernadette rasped for air and reached for Fang.

With a flicker of the priest's wrist, the dagger darted through the air. It landed somewhere behind the fiery curtain with a loud clang.

The priest pointed its dagger at her throat and said something. Bernadette began to choke. An unseen power, grasping her throat, lifted her from the ground. So high that her feet dangled above the stone floor.

She clawed at her throat. She thrashed, she fought, but to no avail. The priest neared her and opened its mouth to mock her yet again. She saw its dried up tongue moving.

And then she saw something else.

As her lungs began to hurt seriously, a lean shadow leapt through the curtain of fire with enraged yowling. Smouldering, Zura flew forward, Fang in her hand.

Her small body hit the priest. It heaved, its jaw dropping in surprise. The momentum of Zura's movement drove Fang deep in between its ribs. Up to the hilt.

The priest shrieked and arched its back. The flames died out. Bernadette dropped to the floor, gasping for breath desperately. Zura let go of the blade, landing on her butt.

The priest turned to shimmering ash with one last short-winded wail, reaching its arm upwards, as if hoping for someone to save it.

Fang clanged on the floor.

XXX

Bernadette, sitting by the now empty sarcophagus, kept looking at the blades in her hands.

The Traitor and the Guardian.

Hm.

Miraak was the Traitor, and this other priest was the Guardian. So the blades must have been meant for Miraak.

She examined the metal. It was strange, alien to her, but, according to what it did to her sword, forged out of a damned volcanic glass, it was a bloody effective metal. The blades were still sharp, too. After eras of lying in the tomb with their bearer.

Fitting weapons to use against Miraak.

She sheathed both the dagger and the sword, then fastened them to her belt.

Zura, who had decided to keep Fang as her own, cut the last of Bernadette's burnt hair. It ended a bit above her shoulders now. She clicked her tongue.

"Dark Moons, this won't do…"

"Don't worry, kit. It'll grow back. At least most of us is fine."

"Fine? Fine?!" Zura bristled. "We are not fine, Berni, no, no. We need rest. We need to heal. Marcurio has one big burn on his shoulder, and he sprained his ankle. You are full of burns, darling. You have choke marks on your throat. Most of your armour is gone, damaged beyond repair. A lot of your hair is gone too. At least you have eyebrows…" The Ohmes examined her own clothing, also scorched. "Today even I am burnt. We need to rest. Only for a short while, perhaps we could ask Vermethys to help with the healing? Luckily we have some restoration scrolls now, those that didn't burn in the fire, so we won't die trying to get to safety."

Bernadette sighed. "Tharstan? Would you find us in the village after, let's say, five days of research, and let us know what have you found out about Miraak around here?"

XXX

He felt another presence binding him snap. He shivered, then tried to shake it off, as the feeling clung to him still.

Hm. He didn't even realise something was actually binding him like that.

He tried to reach out of Apocrypha.

No. Still not possible. But certainly much closer than just a moment ago.

XXX

"Must we go to the insufferable feral elf again?" Marcurio groaned.

"Yes, we have another book. Luckily Vermethys was up to...blowing the ash out of Kolbjorn barrow thanks to her husband's magic, and then she got rid of that priest."

"Ahzidal," Zura smiled. "I've looked into his story while we were resting. It's very interesting, he was perhaps the first human to master arcane arts of the elves. He was known to be an enchanter, a master enchanter surpassed by no other among his people. Thirsty for more," Zura gestured dramatically, "unsatisfied by what his homeland had to offer, he ventured far and wide, seeking to learn from the elves, to unravel their secrets. At a great price, however. When he left Saarthal, his wife and child remained," Zura lowered her voice. "Ahzidal returned home several years later, a master of magic. He found only smoke and ruin. Driven mad by grief, he swore an oath of vengeance, taking the name Ahzidal for himself."

Zura made a short pause.

"He sought out the most skilled of mentors and stole their secrets. Waiting and seeking for the right moment to strike, he learnt of the great hero Ysgramor, gathering the Five hundred Companions. Ahzidal went to the hero and offered his skill. He forged many a blade, sharper than any other the warriors had seen, and yet as light as a song, a song of Death. He wove enchanted runes of Dawn magic to the weapons and armour of the men, and he sang songs of might and power, granting a blessing to the whole company."

She thrust her arm in the air as if commanding a battalion so strike.

"The wave of fearsome warriors flooded over the elves like the ocean, angry, roaring and tearing everything in their way apart. Blood flowed in streams and rivers and Ahzidal had his vengeance." She sighed deeply. "He sought more. More power. He turned to the dragons, and the lore of dragon runes, becoming a priest in their order. Yet that wasn't enough. After he learnt all the secrets of the dragons, he turned to Daedra and the realms of Oblivion. The other priests were _furious_ ," Zura intensified, "and exiled him. According to some old legend, he went to Solstheim to seek protection, but hunters caught up with him and locked him in a tomb, imprisoning him alive within a stone sarcophagus."

Bernadette shivered. "I'm so glad we didn't have to fight that one."

"We didn't have to fight the other one, either," Marcurio grumbled.

"O-o-h, my, what a wonderful tale, sweet Zura," an excited rough voice called out. All three of them looked after the sound. Firan was sitting on a tree stump he had swept clean of snow. His feet were dangling in the air and a wide grin sat on his face.

"See? Daedra be not good for you. For anyone," he nodded.

"How- ...were you spying on us?" Marcurio narrowed his eyes and wound his fingers around his staff more tensely.

"Nah. I went to look why you all be standing in front of my home like dead rocks," he chuckled and knocked his heels few times on the stump, "and then I be wanting to hear the tale."

He tilted his head. "You bring more books, right? Right?"

"Only one. There is another one in a barrow, what was it, some White...Bridge? Ridge?"

"Oooh. Nasty one, that. Went there once. Not be coming back, no, no." He jumped off the log and waded through the thick snow cover to Bernadette. "The book, big woman?" he smiled and reached out.

She gave it away. She shuddered as it left her hands, a great weight lifting from her, and wound her fingers around the hilt of her new sword. Though she was excited to visit the incredible library at first, now she felt her stomach twisting in knots whenever she thought about Apocrypha.

A thought flew through her head. Miraak had been imprisoned there for...for...who knows how long? She only needed a short acquaintance with it to feel repulsed. What must it felt like for him? Centuries, millennia…

She clenched her jaw. No. The bastard killed Godric. She didn't know him that long, true, and they fought since he met Frea, but she was still fond of him.

She was.

Really.

Why was she trying to convince herself? She shifted her weight from one feet to the other.

At least he didn't do anything bad to Zura. Bernadette shivered at the thought and hurried to catch up with the rest, following Firan to Thirsk.

Firan was talking to Zura. She listened with a smile and wide eyes. Marcurio, on the other hand, looked rather irked.

When Bernadette finally caught up, Firan was just asking Zura: "You know, I be curious, what about you and love, Zura?"

Marcurio tensed.

Zura grinned. "I am a bard. Love is my business. But that is not what you are asking about, yes? I'm never against a friendly-"

Marcurio put his hands on Zura's shoulders and looked down at Firan. "You're not wanted here, elf. Shove off."

Firan narrowed his eyes at the mage.

Zura looked up. "What's bugging you, Marcurio? I can speak for myself," she freed herself from his grasp.

Marcurio opened his mouth, but Bernadette briskly cut in. "So you said you went to the barrow, Firan? Tell us about it."

He turned to her, pressing his lips firmly together. "Bad place. Don't let the spiders in your head."

XXX

An uneasy silence settled upon the three companions.

Zura was torn, often biting her lip. Sometimes she almost went to apologise, but then her eyes hardened and she turned away.

Marcurio only spoke when absolutely necessary. Most of the time he spent with his nose in his notes, scribbling furiously on clean sheets of paper.

Bernadette remained distant, often staring at the golden sword in her hands, frowning. In such moments Zura would come and huddle close to her. Then they would sit together in silence.

XXX

Corpses strewn about? Door barred from the outside? Spider webs?

Not nice.

Bernadette gritted her teeth. She circled her shoulders and then slid the new carved nordic shield into her hand. She wasn't entirely comfortable with her new armour, but what could she do.

Raise the shield and try to catch jumping spiders.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to the barrow and went forward.

XXX

"Are you sure? You want to stay among the spiders?"

"They're dead. And I can look after myself, cat."

Zura drew away from him and curled her lip. "If your wish is to stay alone in the darkness, then be my guest."

Bernadette scoffed and shook her head. She turned around, eager to leave the strange spider imbuing room. Zura joined her hurriedly, trotting along her taller friend's long steps.

Marcurio opened one of the journals they discovered among the corpses and began to study it thoroughly.

XXX

This lid didn't hit the ground. It slowly lifted, then it carefully landed next to the sarcophagus, ready to be put back. The resident of the sarcophagus rose up, its arms crossed.

Bernadette and Zura took few steps back, confused by what was happening.

The priest looked at them and unfolded its arms. It said something and tilted its head.

Bernadette shook her head and raised her sword.

The priest looked more carefully at her, drawn in by the glistening sword in her hand. Then it chuckled and made a mock bow. As it straightened up, it flicked its wrist upwards. The air shimmered. With a hum, resonating in their rib cages like the sound of a giant bell, two hideous ragged creatures appeared from sickly green gates.

XXX

"How did we manage to defeat it?" Zura breathed out.

"I have no idea. This was...bad." Bernadette scratched her head and then looked at the pile of glowing ashes. "To be honest, I don't really remember much of the fight. I just remember what you saw few moments ago - standing above this here with my sword pointing forward."

Zura hugged herself. "I can't wait for us to get home."

Bernadette gave her a look. Almost...frightened one. Zura slapped herself gently and hurried to hug the Breton. "Aaaw, don't you worry, darling, I'm not leaving. I meant after we are finished here. I know I complain a lot. But I'm not leaving, ever."

XXX

They camped in a safe distance from the barrow. Bernadette, tired by all the fighting, went to bed first. When her breath deepened, Marcurio found Zura.

He sat next to her and started talking in hushed tones. "Zura, I can see that neither of us is happy here on this trip. We do so many things we don't want to do, our goals remain unattended, and we have to wade through snow deeper than in Skyrim. I know I angered you earlier, but I thought you really would go with that smelly...thing."

Zura frowned, the corners of her lips curling down. She opened her mouth to say something, but Marcurio didn't notice and continued. "Here's what I propose. Let's leave together. I plan to go back to the Imperial City, to write my thesis. I have enough material to do that just fine. Come with me. You can return to your family and then we can...solve this unspoken thing between us."

Zura's shoulders tensed and her lips twitched. "Marcurio, what...why? You're abandoning-?"

"I'm tired of hearing every wretch we come across plead for something and our valiant beast going in to help them. Travelling with her was fun and rewarding while she was at least a bit sane. Now? She's got her mind stolen by Sheogorath. Or perhaps Mora, I heard that people who meet with _that_ Prince often turn insane. She's either a savage beast (have you seen her fight?), or a hero in shining armour. I don't have time for that. And we almost died! More than once! For what? For some jerk, who's been stuck in Divines forgotten Apocrypha, allegedly for millennia! How does that sound to you?"

"It sounds like a story of a hero, Marcurio," Zura murmured. "Have you not ever seen a story like that? The Woodland Knight? Nerevarine's Dance? Or that of the Vestige? There are always hardships. There is a price to pay. But the heroes cannot stop, they are driven. By what, no one knows. Yet their lives, their deeds, their stories - these mean that we are here today. Is future not worth the trouble?"

"Great. So now you're making _her_ a hero of some story? And what about us? The world doesn't revolve around Bernadette."

"What about us? You're a cherished friend, just like Bernadette," Zura looked a bit confused, yet suspicion began to creep into her eyes. "Wait. You didn't think I was...falling in love with you?"

"Weren't you?"

"No."

"Then...what about all the touches? And secret smiles, and looks, and gentle words?"

"That is how one should treat their friends, no? All I shared with you I shared with Bernadette as well. She never thought I had romantic inclinations towards her."

"But she's a woman!" Marcurio hissed.

"And what about that?" Zura retorted, her voice resembling growling of an angry cat. "Women can't feel attraction for other women? Is that what you're saying? Or that I don't find women attractive? I do, for your information, though I prefer men. Yet you never cared to learn, did you?"

"But...but…"

"I adore romance. I love to think about it and write about it and sing about it. You know why? Because it is a mystery to me. A delicious mystery to decipher, to uncover its secrets. I don't know the feeling. I just don't...work like that."

"But you…"

"Yes, I have sex," Zura curled her lip. "And I readily enjoy it. I just don't do the 'romantic feelings' part. I only study those. Like you study the ugly zombie making spiders." She folded her arms on her chest. "What bothers me more, though, is that you want to discuss my intimate matters more than abandoning Bernadette! Shame on you, Marcurio."

"She's insane! Better to leave her so she doesn't hurt you," he recoiled, still hurt from Zura's rejection.

"She's lonely, broken and sad. She's angry, I admit, she's angry a lot, but who is without problems? Also, no, I would never leave her. Not when we're good, and certainly not when she desperately needs a friend."

"Am I not your friend too?"

"Dark Moons...you are. But with her I have much stronger bond, constructed slowly over the years. We're like kittens from the same litter, Marcurio." She sighed. "And Berni won't ask me for something I cannot give."

"So...I guess this is it, then," Marcurio got up. "Enjoy your frozen mountains. Enjoy Hermaeus Mora slapping you with tentacles. Enjoy your undead priests. I'm leaving."

"During the night?"

"I need to catch the last boat, before the sea becomes too dangerous to sail." With that he took his backpack and left without another word. After his steps disappeared in the night, Zura sighed and her shoulders slumped.

"So he's gone, then?" Bernadette asked, her voice strained, almost cracking.

"Oh, darling, you heard all that?"

"Most of it." This almost sounded like a sob.

"Don't worry about it, Berni," Zura purred and got up to move her bedroll right next to Bernadette's.

"Was he right? Am I insane? Am I insufferable?" These were definitely sobs.

"You are damaged, dear, as we all are." She laid down under Bernadette's blanket and then spread hers over both of them. They huddled close together. "If you want to do something with the burdens you bear, we can look into it."

"Is that why people always leave? Why they don't want me? Am I...am I a mistake? Something that should not have happened, something that should be left to die?"

"No, of course not." Zura kissed Bernadette's cheek. "I'm here. Your aunt loves you very much, that much is clear. And the big man, Farkas, he loves you too. Don't haunt yourself with it. Try to get some sleep."

Bernadette nodded, then sobbed softly.

Zura caressed her hair and began to hum a lullaby.

XXX

"Where be your stick? He got lost in the snow?"

"Here's your book," Bernadette handed the heavy black tome over. "If you don't mind, I'll go to bed early. I'm tired…" she trailed off. She gave a hint of a smile to Zura, then retreated into a room that was cleared out for them.

"A long and tangled story," Zura replied to Firan's inquisitive look.

"I be hoping it gets untangled," the Bosmer commented. "I be starting to like the big woman."

Zura nodded. "Then tell her. Please." She turned to him and looked him up and down. He tilted his head, amused smirk on his lips.

"What be you looking for, Zura? Found it?"

"I was thinking about your offer. You know, I haven't got a tumble for a long, looooong time." She bared her teeth in a wolfish grin and slowly trailed the tip of her finger along his forearm. "I am captivated."

He neared her. He caressed her cheek, then trailed down to her neck. "Good thing I be not afraid of cats," he smirked and picked her up.

XXX

"What are these inks made of? I haven't seen those in your collection before," Zura sat down next to Bernadette and then slid a plate with food over to her.

The Breton took a piece of smoked meat and bit into it. "I tried to make some from scathecraw. It works quite well." She finished a rune on the scroll in front of her and put her quill down. "I'm replenishing your supply. So you have means of defense."

"Where are we going next?"

"North, to the mountains. To a ruin inhabited by rieklings, Benkongerike. The last book is there."

"I'll put a thicker cloak on, then."

XXX

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss having horses."

Bernadette raised an eyebrow at Zura.

"They made carrying things so much easier."

XXX

"Use this," Bernadette pulled one scroll from Zura's bandolier. It was stuffed with them. "A cloak spell. Fire, I think. It won't harm you, but it sure will harm any enemy too close to you."

"Alright. What more?"

"These are for healing. And those are utility scrolls. Wards, burden, telekinesis...use them as you see fit."

"Let's go in and hope the Moons shine bright upon us."

XXX

"Dragon Language: Myth no More?" Bernadette drew a sharp breath. "Mine now!" she snatched the book and hid it in an enchanted satchel hanging on her belt.

XXX

"Oh, it's dark already? At least the Moons are shining," Zura looked up to the sky. "I am glad for the light. I missed it in the ruin."

"We should probably move on. Camp a bit further from here."

"A good idea." Zura grabbed Bernadette's hand. "I'll lead the way. I can see well in darkness."

As they went on, they slowly realised that they wandered into a part of the Moesring mountains they had not visited before. The mountains appeared more threatening, their stony teeth jutting out to the sky. Ancient stone structures lay scattered throughout the snow. Howling of wolves could be heard somewhere in the distance, a chilling sound echoing through the otherwise silent mountains.

Sometimes a more ferocious, deeper howl resounded in the night.

Bernadette looked up. Masser was full, Secunda not completely. She gulped and reached for her amulet, only to find it missing.

"What is it?" Zura, noticing Bernadette's growing nervousness, asked.

"I think werewolves are out hunting tonight."

"Werewolves? But...you fought and defeated dragons. Surely werewolves won't be a problem?" Zura shivered.

"The Dragons...you can see them coming…" Bernadette put her hand near her weapon. Just to be sure.

"And...not werewolves?"

Bernadette didn't answer.

As they kept walking, more and more structures began to appear. Finally they arrived to a staircase, decorated by stone columns. They looked at each other, the staircase finely visible for both of them in the moonlight. They nodded. And then went down the stairs.

As they descended, they could hear faint drumming. And voices. It was a rather primitive melody, full of wild power and untamed voices.

Now they could see a platform. Fires were burning all along the platform, and people were dancing around the flames. Some of them held drums.

When Bernadette and Zura took the last step, everyone on the platform grew quiet. Several men, almost naked, their muscles rippling under their skin, their hairy bodies covered in ritual paint, approached the intruders with guttural growls. Two or three bears, not the only ones in this place, joined them, lumbering across the platform.

Zura felt Bernadette tensing. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other and her fingers danced at the hilt of her sword. Zura squeezed her hand, although she didn't feel very safe either.

A huge man stopped not far from them. He was hulking, even taller than Farkas. He had long black dreadlocks, pulled back, and a tousled beard. He was dressed in a small fur loincloth and leather bracelets, otherwise he wore nothing.

"You're not welcome here," he snarled. His eyes were glistening in the moonlight, almost as golden as Bernadette's.

But before anyone could react, a feminine voice called out. "Hush, Rosvar! Can you not see? The girl is one of ours."

A woman, her belly and breasts heavy with pregnancy, was approaching. Her skin was palid, her hair as white as snow and her eyes golden, very vividly so. She too was mostly naked. Blue war paint adorned her body, which, upon closer inspection, depicted very ornamental bears. A heavy necklace made out of bear claws and teeth rested upon her breast, and many bracelets decorated both her forearms and shins.

She stopped next to Rosvar, her head coming barely up to his shoulders. She looked at Bernadette intently, her golden eyes examining the Breton bit by bit.

"You are a woman of the wyrd, are you not?"

"I don't know what a wyrd is," Bernadette decided to square her shoulders and look back at the woman defiantly. "But my mother was a witch, if that carries any significance."

There was a huge wooden effigy of a man with bear head among the fires. Could this be a sacred site to the Old one?

"A daughter of the wyrd, then. I can smell you have the blood," the woman smiled. It was a rather unsettling smile. "I am Widann, a Sworn to our patron. I lead our little community. You've come to our shrine, daughter of the wyrd, at the night of the sacred dance. What is it you seek?" her eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a smile again.

"I...I…"

"Are you lost? Do you seek protection, do you seek connection?" Widann purred and pressed to Rosvar, touching his bulky chest. "You lost your way, haven't you? Do not worry, the bears are still with you, guarding you."

"Connection? Bears?"

Widann laughed. "Yes, as one of His charges you have spiritual protectors, sacred bears. He protects His own."

The words rang in Bernadette's head, pulling out an old memory of her mother praying to a man with bear head, of her mother dancing naked in the woods, her white hair flowing along her untamed movements.

"You have the blood, there is a bond. But it is weakened, daughter of the wyrd. Do you wish to undergo the rite? Do you wish to feast and dance with us?"

Bernadette bit her lip and shifted her weight again.

"We are a family. Come, embrace it."

"How?" Bernadette rasped, unsure whether she was frightened or mesmerised.

Widanna smiled. "There are two ways. Blood," she raised one hand, bloodied knife in it, "or sex," her smile grew into a grin and she caressed Rosvar's thigh. The man grumbled like a bear and put his hand on Widanna's shoulder. Rather gently.

Bernadette looked around. It all seemed very...interesting. She did feel protected in this place. Warm, safe. As if she belonged there. "Well...is there anyone who prefers the first choice?" she chuckled nervously.

One of the bears stood up on its hind legs and then, with a groan, transformed into a man. He walked forward, naked and wanting, his stride confident. "I would gladly be your forebear," his voice rumbled.

"Come, come child of the wyrd, embrace your heritage," Widanna spread her arms wide. "Let go of the cat and embrace us."

Wait. Bernadette frowned and pulled Zura closer. "No. I'm not parting from Zura."

Rosvar growled and the other man stopped his stride. Widanna tilted her head. "You have no need of her. You belong with us."

"No."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Very well. I will not force anything upon you, child. But know you've thrown away your only chance," Widanna bared her teeth. She said several words in an ancient tongue neither Zura nor Bernadette knew, and then reached her arm towards the Breton.

Bernadette felt...something. Something left her. She shivered. Now she felt exposed, unprotected, vulnerable.

Widanna lowered her arm. "Go. Take your cat and leave. We will not harm you, not today. Should you expose us or come again, there will be vengeance," she narrowed her eyes at Bernadette.

The Breton scoffed. "Don't threaten me. I have no intention to harm you. But I will defend myself if necessary." She turned around and left. Zura stayed close, holding onto her hand.

 **xxx**

 **Oh my, this took an unexpected turn...I wanted it to go differently, but as I was writing, Zura kept struggling against me. I had to let her have her way.**


	5. Chapter 5

"For you," Zura smiled. Bernadette, sombre and sitting a bit away from the fire, looked at the Khajiit.

"Are those prayer beads?"

"Yes, dear. With charms of Mara. Made from the finest, darkest wood. It's really dark, reddish in undertones, it will go well with your hair," Zura smiled and put the beads on Bernadette's palm. "I know you like Zenithar, but I had only beads of Mara with me. And Dibella, but those are mine. I thought you might appreciate having something to remind you that you're not alone."

Bernadette looked at the beads. She haven't prayed to the Divines for so long… She ran her thumb over the beads and began a wordless prayer. She wished so much for someone to comfort her…

The beads fit nicely. As she kept running her thumb over them and praying silently, she felt warmth and peace settle upon her soul.

She did forget the gods, didn't she? The gods that were with her. She was an agent of Mara's will, was she not? She should honour that.

She smiled at Zura and put the beads around her neck. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, darling," the Khajiit smiled warmly.

XXX

As they continued through the snow, she kept touching the prayer beads. A little smile settled on her lips. The Mother did not forget her. She did not leave her.

And even if she forgot for a while, she was doing Mother's will, was she not? She was helping where she could.

With renewed vigor, she caught up with Zura and took the Khajiit on her back. Zura purred gratefully and put her head on Bernadette's neck.

XXX

"The last but one!" Firan rejoiced. "We almost have what we need. Now we be waiting for the hag to arrive." The elf looked at Zura and Bernadette. "You look much more cheerful than last time," he commented, sly smile on his lips. "You have a new amulet, I see. Be the bones too heavy for you?"

"Something like that," Bernadette sat down on a chair nestled with furs.

"Hm. These wooden bits suit you better, big woman. Now tell. Be you carrying any vegetables? Ash yams? Anything?"

"Why, yes, we do have some left," Zura blinked. She got up and went to sift through their backpack. She returned with a basket.

Firan licked his lips.

Zura opened the basket and looked inside. "These still look good. Why, want to have some?"

"Ye, ye!" Firan jumped to his feet. "I be trading meats for them. Bleh. Had enough of meat."

"Or maybe we could share a dinner?" Zura looked at Bernadette. The Breton nodded.

Firan stuck his hand into the basket and fished an ash yam out of it. He drew his knife and very quickly peeled the yam. Then he opened his mouth as much as he could and gorged on it.

Zura and Bernadette exchanged looks.

"You...must really like vegetables."

He grinned, his mouth still full. "Ye. I LOVE them."

"I thought Wood elves didn't-"

"And you thought that every single Bosmer be in on the Green?" Firan leapt in front of her and made a hideous grimace. "Thought better of you, big woman. No, I shit on the Green Pact!" he proclaimed and took another huge bite. "It be fucking good!" he grumbled with his mouth full.

"Why so avid about the matter?" Zura asked.

"Why? Why?" he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "I never chose to honour the stupid Pact. It be chosen for me in my stead! You know what? You touch one stupid flower and you be dead! The trees be going after you, and the trees be eating you! And if they be getting no sacrifice? They start eating your entire village, your family! But no one be caring when you buy a piece of dead wood from somewhere else. Y'ffre be not caring even when the Orcs, living in Valenwood, kill her trees, or her little obedient elves, no. Fuck Y'ffre! What kind of logic be that?"

He spat, then took another bite. "I did not agree to any Pact. Yet they be expecting me to do as the Pact be saying. Bollocks! So I be defying them all. I be defying the stupid whore, Y'ffre, who be demanding attention like a spoiled child, I be defying every sodding piece of rubbish that be deciding to prey on people's free will!"

"Is that why you hate Daedra so much?"

"In a nutshell," he grumbled.

"What about the Divines?"

"Eh. I be not sure 'bout them. They be not forcing themselves upon anyone, not really like the other blighters, but they be not doing things to make world they set upon us better." He shook his head. "I be growing tired of talk 'bout gods. How 'bout we make dinner?"

XXX

"What is this place?" Zura shivered and reached for Bernadette's hand.

"The Altar of Thrond," Vermethys uttered darkly.

"Is Thrond an old god?" Bernadette asked.

"He be one in times long past," Firan grumbled. "Until two Princes joined together and tore him apart. Hircine and Molag Bal. They be wanting Thrond's dark powers."

Bernadette rached for her prayer beads. The touch of the wood filled her with warmth.

"Do we have to do it here?"

"Yes. This is the place where Thrond has fallen. His blood seeped into the ground, leaving a strong spring of natural magicka. Hircine's witches used to do their foul rituals here. The three hags of Glenmoril," Vermethys scowled. The way she tensed her grip on her spear spoke of personal involvement.

Speaking of the spear, it seemed as if its blade was reflecting some faint red glow. It grew stronger every time Vermethys neared the altar. And yet there was no source of red light. The sun was setting, true, but it still bore a bright golden blaze.

Firan snorted. "Well, let us be not here longer than needed. Hag, help me with the stones. You know the rite."

XXX

"Good. You know what to do?"

"As soon as you scatter the books and the portal opens, Vermethys and I go in and find Miraak."

"He should be close. The rite be taking care of that."

"Good. And when we find him, I need to slap the binding stone over his heart and say the phrase. Vermethys will call to you and we jump back."

"Sounds easy enough," Zura commented. Her voice was shaking.

"It be sounding easy," Firan shook his head, "but fighting the old dragon man be not. Nor trying to keep hidden from Mora."

"You're not calling him zounderkite anymore?"

"Not when there be fighting to be done against him. He _be_ a dragon man. This be no joking time."

Bernadette drew her sword. "I'm ready. Start the rite."

"First the books," Firan placed each book carefully around the pattern he had created from heartstones. The small chunks of rock were emanating a menacing red light, pulsing like a heartbeat. He and Vermethys both raised their arms up to the sky and began chanting in old dunmeris. It was an eerie chant, slow, heavy, evoking a picture of sifting ash and whistling winds.

Then they both quickened their chanting. Their arms began moving, reminiscent of dunmeri dances. Both of the mer began to swirl their whole bodies to the rhythm, their arms and hands snaking around in elaborate gestures, as slick as water. Their movements quickened, becoming so fast they started to sweat.

Suddenly, both of them froze. Vermethys jerked her arms upward, screaming one word with as much power as she could. Firan swirled around, his arms wide open. The books lifted from the ground. They lit up. And with a flash of blinding light of dusk, each of them disappeared.

Firan growled and brought his arms down in a strained motion. Vermethys, gritting her teeth, reached her hands to him, wrapped in pulsing light, changing from brilliant golden to warm orange, faint red and back.

The stones flared up. Each and single one of them melted to magma, pulsing with bright red light. The magma hissed and sizzled. The snow in vicinity began to sizzle and vaporize.

Bernadette touched the pouch with the binding stone. It was just sitting there, cold and heavy, seemingly unaffected by the ritual.

Vermethys brought a spear of aedric energy down to the altar. As it penetrated the stone, Firan opened it into a doorway.

Reality cracked. In front of their very eyes a portal to Apocrypha opened, bordered by light of the setting sun. Stale air smelling of old books and mould poured out of the portal, as well as a deep humming sound, resonating through everyone's chest.

Firan knelt down, almost burning his knees on the magma. Vermethys jabbed three javelins into the ground around him, then turned to Bernadette.

"Let's go."

The Breton nodded. They jumped over the magma, cooling down ever so slowly, and delved into Apocrypha.

XXX

There was a tear.

A tear.

Miraak hurried to investigate, hope swelling in his heart. He lifted himself up in the air to avoid being slowed down by his aching leg.

As he neared the tear, he felt a living presence. Two of them.

The blinding beacon of light. The indomitable woman.

He narrowed his eyes. This must have been some trap set for him. But the promise of Nirn was so tempting… He bit his lip and stopped his flight. After concentrating for a while, he realised that Mora was occupied elsewhere.

Definitely a trap.

His heart sank.

No. He knew it was a trap, he would use that to his advantage. They wanted him to go there. What of it? He would make it all work in his favour.

He raised his staff and resumed his flight. "SAHROTAAR! KRUZIIKREL! RELONIKIV!" his voice echoed through Apocrypha. Somewhere in the distance a dragon roared in response.

Once he appeared on the platform the tear was placed upon, a javelin of aedric energy flew right at him. He deflected it with the staff.

Two vials were thrown at him right after that. He grabbed them with a wave of telekinetic energy and sent them darting into the murky ocean of ink. Several tentacles tried to slap the vials as they flew past them.

Two figures jumped him. He swirled his staff and retreated a bit.

Howling winds rose from the still air of Apocrypha. Bearing many sheets of paper, the winds roared about, tearing the women off of their feet and slamming them to the wall far away from Miraak.

He circled them, nearing the tear.

A blazing rock, glowing with golden flame, crashed into the ground right next to him, missing him only by a hair's width. He hissed and quickly warded himself. A stone engulfed in golden fire hit the ward, shaking him to the core. He had to retreat. As he did, several more javelins flew his way.

He danced in the air, avoiding all of them.

A heavy body hit him. She tackled him to the ground and pressed him down with one arm. The other went to her belt.

He growled. He grabbed the arm that was pressing him down and released a blast of lightning. When she arched and screamed, he blasted her again. An explosion of wind and lightning sent her flying. He slowly turned to his stomach and scrambled up to his feet.

The other woman was at his throat in an instant. She jabbed her spear at him, forcing him to stumble back. She whirled around and went for his legs.

He grabbed her with a gust of wind and threw her away.

A small round object landed under his feet. Panicked, he pushed it away with magic. Not fast enough. It detonated. The explosion threw him back on the ground. He hit his back hard, spasms of pain spreading fast through it. He heaved and in doing so, breathed a rather strange greenish smoke in.

He began coughing violently, almost choking. As he gasped for breath in between the coughs, he only breathed in more of the accursed smoke.

Heavy footsteps neared his curled form.

He waved his hand, forcing himself to concentrate on the flow of magicka.

A wind wall rose around him, stopping the women from approaching. A golden javelin hit the wall, but got stuck in the wind. It got torn away and then its energy dissipated between the roaring winds.

Miraak quickly lifted himself from the ground. With a blast of healing light he forced his back to suppress the pain for now. They wanted to play dirty? To fight a real battle? Let them have it!

He rose high in the air, his arms stirring the winds. Books, scattered around, were lifted by the energy, fluttering in the gust of wind along with many sheets of paper. Miraak made several quick motions. The winds swirled around, transforming into tornadoes. He sent them after the women.

The Dunmer protected herself with a magic shield. Bernadette, on the other hand, was defenseless. The first tornado tore the scroll she was starting to read out of her hands and lifted her up. Then a second one arrived. The winds swirled her around mercilessly, jamming her body against book columns, then tearing it away again and fighting over which one will grasp her.

Miraak began making elegant movements, as if he was weaving something. A crack. Several lightning scythes formed around him. With a spin, he sent them out.

Bernadette, who has just freed herself from the raging tornadoes, yelped and jumped out of the way. Two of the scythes went around her. She just barely fit herself in the tiny free space between crackling blades of lightning.

The Dunmer took a hit. For a reason, though. She blasted a flare at Miraak. It went right after him, not giving him the opportunity to avoid it.

He screamed when the flare of burning golden light hit him. He faltered, almost falling down. He barely noticed the javelin hurtling at him. With a strained sound, he tried to steer out of its way.

He misjudged the distance. The movement was not enough.

The javelin pierced his shoulder. He cried out in pain, dropping down to the ground. The winds stopped blowing, magicka dissipating in his hands.

The drop sent an explosion of pain through his left hip and leg. He groaned and put weight on his right foot. Then he yelped and bent backwards, just barely escaping a golden blade swinging through the air.

He knew that blade.

A memory of golden dagger sinking into his stomach surfaced in his mind.

Not the time!

He stepped away from another swing and sent a spray of lightning randomly in Bernadette's direction. She yelped and the golden blade stopped threatening him, so he must have hit her. He raised a wide ward against another blast of golden light.

He spun around and stirred the winds. Just in time to protect himself from a crossbow bolt and two other javelins flying in his direction.

He grunted and with a swift resolute motion sent a tangle of lightning whips at the Dunmer. Several of the whips got to her. The crackling energy wound around the Dunmer, scorching her and lifting her from the ground.

Miraak jerked the whips upwards. Screaming, the Dunmer flew up in the air, dragged along by the whips. He smirked and sent her flying at Bernadette. The women collided, both falling to the floor.

He lifted himself back to the air. He covered the still bleeding wound on his shoulder with his hand and quickly healed it. Then he sent another wave of healing energy through his body to suppress increasing pain in both his back and leg.

Another suspicious round thing flew in his direction.

With a flicker of his wrist it found its way into the inky ocean. Lurkers dived after it. It exploded soon after, making a splash of ink rise from the ocean.

With a roar, Sahrotaar flew over the battlefield. He made an elegant turn. "FO KRAH DIIN!"

The women darted away from each other, narrowly avoiding the blast of frost.

"Having dragons fight your battles?" Bernadette shouted as she ran away from Sahrotaar.

"Having old templars fight yours?" Miraak retorted. She scoffed and threw another object at him. Chuckling, he sent it flying into the inky ocean.

The other two dragons closed in on the fight.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

XXX

Bad. This was ultimately bad.

Bernadette darted away with a yelp, the flames licking the back of her carved armour.

And the bastard wasn't even hurt, not really! He was floating above them, chuckling like he was having _so much fun_.

When he deflected Vermethys' attack with a wide ward, far too wide for an attack like that, Bernadette tried to jump him again.

He hit her with an unseen energy and sent her flying backwards.

She landed on the ground with several rolls. Groaning, she got back to her feet.

Vermethys had her hands full with the dragons. She was just barely defending herself against the three of them. Miraak moved towards the tear.

No, he won't.

Bernadette ran after him with an angry scream. He turned to face her, outstretching his arms. They clashed.

He stopped the golden blade. He clenched his fist and the sword just stopped moving, as if stuck in a rock. Bernadette growled and pushed with all her weight.

He trembled. The blade moved a tiny bit forward.

They were locked close. Bernadette could see his eyes, narrowing in a possible frown. He raised his other hand.

This is it. He's going to wipe me out of existence, she thought.

But he didn't.

As lightning began to crackle around his arm, she saw his eyes widen. His gaze darted away and he almost turned from her, exposing his side.

She felt it too. A deep, powerful hum, vibrating through the still air of Apocrypha. Even the dragons grew still.

Bernadette snatched the binding stone from her pouch and pushed it against Miraak's chest. He grunted when she hit him, turning his head back to her.

She spoke the phrase Firan had taught her.

XXX

A tendril of golden light shot out of the portal. Firan, trembling in exertion, grabbed onto it. He pulled. And again, with all his strength. The muscles on his naked arms strained. He stood up and pulled one last time.

A cluster of three figures flew out of the portal. They all landed in the vicinity of the altar, tumbling on the snowy ground.

But they weren't the only ones to leave the portal. With roaring that shook the ground, three dragons forced through, darting up to the sky. And behind them…

A swarm of tentacles, covered in eyes, oozing horrendous black muck. The tentacles grabbed the edges of the portal, trying to widen it.

Firan bellowed and grabbed onto two of the three golden javelins. He pulled them out of the snow. "Bugger of, fucker!" he bellowed and slammed the javelins together. The sunlit borders of the tear slammed shut, cutting the tentacles off. They fell to the ground, forming a writhing mass of slowly evaporating ichor.

With one last roar, Firan took the third javelin and sealed the tear with it. The golden light knitted together, then it slowly faded out, leaving nothing but clear sky in its wake.

Firan collapsed into the snow, breathing heavily.

The moment the portal closed, the glowing magma turned to solid obsidian.

Zura looked up.

The three dragons were diving for them, flames boiling in their snouts.

"BACK OFF!" Bernadette bellowed. "OR HE DIES!"

The dragons spread their wings wide and swooped around in an elegant curve, landing with heavy thuds not far from the altar.

Zura, crouching behind a pile of snow, peeked out from her hiding spot.

Bernadette was standing over Miraak's unmoving form sprawled across the altar, the tip of her golden sword resting against his chest.

"You don't want that, right?" she challenged.

The dragons arched their necks, looking down at her with their piercing eyes. Two of them were bronze, their scales streaked with amber stripes, their heads adorned with massive horns. The third, standing in the middle, was as black as midnight, hornless and his yellow eyes almost glowed in the mass of black scales.

Bernadette drove the sword a little further. It must have pushed into his chest a bit. "I'm serious! Back the fuck away!"

One of the dragons, the black one, growled angrily. When Zura turned her attention to him, she noticed a leather harness, strapped to his back. He looked at the other two. They looked back at him. All three of them shook their heads and backtracked a bit, moving their massive bodies clumsily.

"Leave us, and don't you dare to try attack us! Or I'll kill him, understood?" Bernadette bared her teeth at the dragons.

The black one nodded. He narrowed his eyes at Bernadette and grumbled some unknown words. Then he moved away from the other two, taking flight. The two horned dragons growled at Bernadette, showing their massive teeth, then took off. All three of them ascended in circles, roaring angrily. Then they disappeared somewhere in the distance between the tops of Moesring mountains.

Zura jumped out of her hiding spot and ran to Bernadette.

The Breton breathed out and threw the sword away. Her legs gave out from under her and she fell to her knees.

Vermethys sat up with a groan. "By the Three, I thought we were done for."

"Yes," Bernadette sighed, "I did too."

"Bright Moons!" Zura hugged Bernadette. "You made it, you made it, you made it! I was so afraid!"

Firan, slowly gathering himself, looked at the altar. "But it be looking like the dragon man be not making it," he wrapped a cloak around himself to cover his bare arms from the cold.

All eyes turned to Miraak.

It was hard to make out, but it seemed like he wasn't breathing.

Bernadette grabbed the mask and tried to lift it.

It didn't budge.

She growled and tried again, to no avail.

"Shush, big woman," Firan tapped her shoulder, "it be a prison. He be needing a cleansing. Sit close, I be doing it for both of you." He turned to Vermethys. "Hag, I be too tired…"

She nodded. "I'll give you my power. Here," she sat down next to him and let him take her hand. "Just be careful not to...you know."

He nodded.

Zura stepped away from Bernadette and watched how gentle blue energies began to fill the air around the sitting mer, humming an unknown melody.

The light formed into elegant runes as the mer hummed. The runes created a stream of dancing words, which slowly poured to Bernadette and Miraak. Once it touched her, Bernadette breathed out, her tension going away. She relaxed, slumping a little. A slight smile settled on her face.

The light then caressed Miraak's form. It went inside the brown robes, now starting to seep inky muck. It lit him up, lifting a sickly green mist from his body. As the mist left him, he took a shallow breath.

The mist slowly scattered and the blue light died out. Firan leaned on Vermethys, both of them slumping in exhaustion.

Bernadette pried the mask off. It went without the slightest resistance.

Zura leaned closer. "Huh. This is not...what I expected."

Bernadette nodded silently.

They were looking at a surprisingly young face, probably in mid to late twenties. He was...gaunt. He had extremely dark circles under his eyes, contrasting bitterly with his pallid skin, looking almost ashen. His mouth, chin and neck were covered in dried blood.

Bernadette pulled the hood off of his head.

"Yuck," Zura recoiled. A large portion of his long black hair was sticky and matted with rather pungent ichor, reminiscent of the one lurkers were secreting.

Bernadette scoffed. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, since the robe was gradually changing into inky muck, smelling like a rotting corpse. She drew her dagger, skillfully removed the robe and wiped some of the muck that remained on his skin with snow. Luckily the muck didn't stick. Then she cut his hair rather radically, making sure the icky part of it was definitely gone. The once magnificent mane was reduced into short, tousled mess, but it was clean.

While naked, he looked almost like a skeleton covered by skin. Zura noticed several scars on him, especially the one rather big on his stomach, reminding her of a burn scar, but instead of being red, it was even paler than the rest of his skin.

And then there was the rune, pulsing with red light, placed upon his heart. Left there by the binding stone, no doubt.

Bernadette wrapped him in her cloak.

"He can't stay here," she looked at Vermethys. "He'll die. And we'll end up eaten by the bloody black dragon."

The Dunmer got up with a groan. "I can teleport myself and one other to Raven Rock." She walked over to Bernadette. "Lift him up, I'm too tired for that."

As the Breton knelt down to pick Miraak up, Vermethys mumbled something and opened a shimmering purple doorway. She took Miraak from Bernadette.

"By the Three, he's not even heavy...I'm not certain we can save him in such a state," she mumbled and stepped through the doorway.

It closed behind her and left the rest of them alone in the snow.

XXX

While they were helping Firan clean after the ritual, Zura noticed a strange satchel, lying forgotten in the snow not far from the altar. She picked it up and opened it.

It looked like it was an enchanted one, to hold many items, similarly to Bernadette's pouches and belt bags. There were books inside.

It must have been Miraak's.

Zura closed it and put it around her shoulder. Then she returned to cleaning up, as if nothing happened.

XXX

"Is he alive?" was Bernadette's first question when she and Zura arrived to Raven Rock.

Vermethys, looking a bit better than when they saw her last, sighed. "For the moment. I'm doing what I can, but…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Come in, come in."

She led them inside. She picked a tray with a tea kettle and a cup, then added three more cups and led the women downstairs. A bathroom and several bedrooms were placed there, along with a storage room.

Vermethys led them to one of the bedrooms. Miraak was resting on the bed, carefully covered by blankets. His eyes were closed, but his complexion looked a bit better.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Vermethys set the tray on the nightstand and poured tea into all four cups. "He's reacting violently to most substances, often outright rejecting them. I found out that the best is a meld of hot tea and healing herbs that take effect very gently."

She gave a cup to Zura, then to Bernadette. She took one for herself. "Luckily, he's responsive to my healing magic."

"Will you be able to get him through this?" Bernadette asked. She sipped from her cup. "Mara's warmth, that's good. I needed that," she smiled and closed her eyes.

"Hopefully. He's rejecting almost any nutrition I manage to get into him, but some of it sticks. Give me time and I'll do what I can."

Bernadette shrugged. "Sure. We need him to eat dragons. And it's not like any captain would sail the Sea of Ghosts mid winter. I think we're stuck here till spring, at least."

"You can stay with me, if you wish," Vermethys smiled. "Our wards don't live here for the moment, so you're welcome to borrow their rooms."

"I was wondering why there were so many toys around here," Zura mused.

Vermethys chuckled. "Simple. I can't have children, sadly, so I decided to adopt orphans I stumbled upon. Sadryn had to reluctantly agree," She winked. "I keep doing it. Now I don't travel so often as I used to, but our previous wards, our children, if you please, that have grown up and went to the world, they sometimes come back with an orphan for us to take care of." Her expression grew dreamy. "I even got grandchildren. And grandchildren of those grandchildren." Her expression dropped. "Sometimes having so long a life can be...taxing."

"How old are you, exactly?"

Vermethys smirked. "My, aren't you an inquisitive little Ohmes. A lady has to have some secrets." She put her cup aside and picked the last one, along with a straw. "How about you learn to do this? So you can help me with his care."

XXX

The next day, during breakfast, Bernadette turned to Zura. "I think I should go see what the Second Councilor needed me for. Do you want to come?"

Zura shook her head. "If you don't mind, I'd rather stay here. I'm so very tired...I need to tune my lyre, the strings are in such a bad shape, I didn't pay attention to them the whole time...the whole time we were moving through the rigid mountains. Terrible. I also think I need to rest a little. Get warm again, inside, you know?"

"Yea, I know," Bernadette mumbled. "But I need something to do. I can't just sit here, thinking about...about Miraak, and Godric, and...and... I'll be back," she smiled and patted Zura's shoulder.

XXX

Zura was sitting in the room with Miraak. She helped Vermethys tend to him and when the Dunmer left, Zura remained sitting in the armchair.

She was watching him sleep. Her eyes sometimes darted to the binding stone, sitting ominously on a chest of drawers in her reach.

XXX

He was starting to look a bit healthier, colour returning to his gaunt cheeks.

Zura now made a habit of sitting by his side, just thinking. She was tuning her lyre lately, slowly getting it to a playable state.

She kept wondering what his story was.

She looked at the satchel she brought back from the altar and left by the bed, so he could find it easily. Maybe she could… No. Helping herself to his privacy was not a good thing to do.

XXX

Bernadette stopped by. Only to have a look at Miraak and to inform Zura that she was going to hunt for assassins of Morag Tong.

XXX

"My dear, I think he likes having someone around," Vermethys commented after she finished checking Miraak. "Ever since you started spending your time here, he's been improving much better. I'm actually starting to believe he can get out of this alive."

XXX

Zura was sitting in her favourite armchair, her lyre ready to play. She kept randomly touching the strings, not sure what she wanted to play.

How about…

Yes.

Time for something new.

She stopped playing random tunes and sat in silence for a moment. Her eyes darted to Miraak. Still asleep. She closed her eyes and put her hands on the strings. She tried to recall the majesty of the arctic night sky. The silent titans of Moesring, and cold, crisp wind howling among their massives. Oh, and last, but certainly not least, the glistening wonder of the broken glacier.

As she did so, her fingers began to wander at their own. They tried how the tunes fit together, and when a melody came out, they repeated it several times to make sure Zura would remember it.

Then she painted an image of Miraak's temple, but untouched by time and destruction. The melody rose up, then fell down dramatically, bit fiercer than before, intense, imposing. Instead of quiet majesty of the unwelcoming mountains, there were explosions of sound to paint the pride woven into the structure. As she wove ancient warriors guarding the battlements in her mind, her fingers gave them voice through her lyre.

And at last, the dragons came. Majestic, horrible, beautiful. Wings beating in the air, roars echoing through the sky. With one, final sharp note, reminiscent of a dragon's roar, she ended the song.

She sat silent for a while, letting the song fade. She breathed in, then out. That was a good melody. She wondered whether or not look for words that could fit.

She opened her eyes. As soon as she did, they widened with surprise.

Miraak was watching her, his eyes half open.

Not entirely sure what to do, she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

He didn't respond. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head away, his breath deepening not long afterwards.

XXX

"I was so scared and yet interested, you know," Zura commented. Miraak, asleep, didn't respond. Zura paid it no heed and mused on. "A mysterious man, sending assassins, stealing people's minds, trying to break free out of a terrible prison...I was expecting a cruel lord, hardened by many battles."

She looked at his thin form, lying on the bed. He looked a little less bony now, since he sometimes managed to stay awake long enough to eat something, but he was still unhealthy. Maybe because he threw up most of what he ate.

"Hm. But you _are_ hardened by many battles, are you not? I saw your scars…" She shifted a bit to find a more comfortable position. "But now that I sit here, I have a feeling you're not half bad, no. Rather…scared. Lonely. Broken. I'm still a bit afraid, mind you…"

She sighed. "You didn't kill Godric, did you? I don't believe you did. He was alive when he came back."

He stirred, but didn't wake up.

"I'm rather curious how this situation will evolve," she muttered. She picked up her lyre and caressed its wooden body.

"So, what shall I play today? Would you care to hear a song of my people? Get some warmth in here?" She purred and reached for the strings. A lively, exotic tune came out. It painted imagery of a silver stream, jumping and dancing among smoothed white stones, lying in short, vividly green grass. Along the stream palm trees grew, their large leaves murmuring in the wind.

Zura began to sing softly in khajiiti language, her voice complementing the lyre perfectly.

As the sun kept moving in the sky, various creatures came to the stram to drink. Each and every one of them had a different tune, entwining into an enchanting melody. As the evening closed in and the moons rose in the sky, Zura's voice slowed down, almost caressing every syllable.

" _...the moons gentle, bright, lining walking souls with silver light. May we walk on warm sands._ " With these words and a final, almost fluttering melody of whispering moonlit sand, she ended her song.

She let it fade away, her eyes closed. She liked this one, her favourite grandmother used to sing it during hard times to bring hope. After some time of silence, she sighed and opened her eyes.

Miraak was watching her again.

She smiled, then let her fingers rest on the strings. "Would you like to hear more?"

"You have a beautiful voice," he said softly, so softly she almost didn't hear him. But she did. And he spoke in khajiiti.

Zura's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and her eyebrows went way up. The khajiiti he spoke was rather archaic, but...it was khajiiti. She opened her mouth few times, no sound coming out of it. She cleared her throat.

"Thank you kindly," she answered, a bit unsure what to do now. But she had to admit, she was flattered. So much she felt a rush of excitement, making her shiver with delight. An ancient priest, wrapped in mystery, liked _her_ voice. She decided to leave questions for a later time and smiled at him warmly. "Should I play another song?"

"Yes, please."

She thought for a moment, then picked a melody. As she began to sing, she watched a peaceful expression settle on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Miraak sat up. Good, it took much less effort than the last time.

He pushed the blanket away. He spared one morose look at himself, similarly bony like the older priests often were. And that pesky rune still sat on his chest.

He scoffed and moved his legs out of the bed. Careful now. With a deep breath, he tried to stand up. Slowly.

He had to steady himself by leaning onto the chest of drawers not far from the bed, but he was standing.

He frowned. Not for long. His legs were trembling and he didn't even take a single step. Time for that now. There were some clothes left for him on the top of the chest of drawers. He carefully placed one foot forward. Then the other. A smile crossed his lips. So far so good.

By the time he got to the neatly folded pile of clothing he felt like collapsing. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he reached for the pile and clutched it to his chest. The armchair was in a reachable distance… He carefully made his way to the armchair and sat down with a groan.

By Wolf-Mother's tail, he felt worse than after a fight with a dragon!

He took a moment to rest a bit. When he felt better, he took a closer look at the clothes. A brown shirt, and...how did they call it, again? Those sleeves for legs...ah, yes, pants. And more, but he was starting to shiver too violently due to cold air. He put the shirt on. It hung on him rather loosely.

He chuckled. Everything would. Perhaps he should ask for children's clothing. He took the pants and examined them to gain an idea on how to wear this particular piece of clothing.

He frowned. More standing up. Then he shrugged. The sooner he got healthy the better. Maybe after he put his legs into the sleeves, though.

With a bit of figuring it out, he finally managed to put the pants on. He sat back down and laced the pants as tightly as he could, though he feared it still wouldn't be enough. So what more was there for him to put on? A long, heavy tunic, a rather worn-out overcoat and a scarf. And there was a pair of shoes left by the door.

After he put on the rest, he forced himself out of the armchair. He took a long look at the path he wanted to thread, judging distances and placement of furniture.

One small, careful step after another, he made his way to the boots. He lowered himself on a stool by the door to catch his breath. Who knew something as simple as walking could be so exhausting?

The shoes fit quite well, surprisingly.

He stood up again. Leaning against the doorframe, he reached for the handle.

The door opened all of a sudden. He almost leapt backwards, but then he remembered it probably wasn't the best idea.

Zura, intending to go inside, stopped, her brows lifting in surprise. She had to look up at him, she came up approximately to his chest. Was it a flicker of fear in her eyes, as her shoulders tensed for a bit?

"My, you're up early," she finally spoke. "Vermethys said you would, and _should_ , stay in bed longer."

"I wanted to see the sky," he murmured, looking away and pulling at the hem of his sleeve. He suddenly felt like an idiot. Maybe he should have told her he wanted to conquer the world or something.

Her expression softened. All fear gone, she patted him on the forearm. Very gently, and it was good she was so considerate. "You poor man, you haven't seen anything nice for a long time, have you? Alright, come, lean on me. I'll help you get up."

Up? Oh no. Stairs.

XXX

Finally. The front door! He chuckled slightly, earning a curious look from Zura.

He felt like talking. He didn't talk to anyone for too long. "I just never thought I would see reaching a front door as an achievement."

She grinned. "Life carries many surprises. I never thought I'd meet an ancient priest."

"How do you feel about that? Meeting one." Wolf-Mother's bones, talking was tiring, stealing his breath. But having an actual conversation...it filled his chest with warmth, a feeling he had forgotten.

"Honestly? I was scared witless, still am a bit," she let him lean onto the wall next to the door and reached for the handle. "You can understand that, can you not?"

He nodded.

"Especially when you stole my mind. That was not nice, not in the slightest," she narrowed her feline eyes at him. He shrugged.

"I didn't get any _nice_ for millenia. I forgot about it."

Zura looked at him for a while, studying his face. He looked right back.

She sighed. "That's fair, I suppose. Come, let's see the sky," she opened the door. "You've earned it, though I'm not sure whether you'll be satisfied with your reward."

He frowned, unsure what she meant by that. But he understood once she led him out of the house. He stopped, shivering. His expression dropped and he swallowed. He looked around, desperately searching for...something. He didn't find it.

He took a shaky breath. "Where are we?" he rasped, his throat dry all of a sudden. Everything was so…

 _Bleak._

"Raven Rock. On the Southwestern end of Solstheim," Zura murmured.

"This...this is Solstheim? This is my home?" he breathed out. There was ash...everywhere. Dead trees jutted out of it as a sad reminder of times past, strange new plants, alien to him, grew here and there. The air chafed in his throat, full of ash. The massive mountain he was used to seeing on the horizon as a faint blue behemoth, was spewing more and more ash, visible even at this distance.

Zura hummed affirmatively.

"Where...what happened to Hirstaang? Where did you say we were? This is supposed to be Hirstaang?"

"What's Hirstaang?"

"A forest," he mumbled, his voice breaking, "a tremendous, vast forest, where pines reached for the sky and where bushes flowered every summer. Herbs covered the ground like carpets. Wolves used to run through the woods, and bears built their nests in its depths. Birds lived there, owls, hawks, blackbirds... Spriggans walked the woods, helping the trees grow and...and…"

He felt tears prickling in his eyes. "No, this cannot be Hirstaang. No! Where are we?" he turned to her, desperate.

She smiled. It was a sad, compassionate smile. "Look there," she pointed to the shore. "Not that far from here in that direction a stone stands. Earth stone. Do you know that place?"

He looked where she was pointing. He knew it was true, he just couldn't...didn't want to believe it. He stifled a sob. His home...beautiful, amazing, thriving Solstheim...was gone.

His legs gave out from under him. He collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face. This is what he suffered for? So it could end like this? So the land could be slowly choked by ash? So the animals could die and the trees get obliterated?

He barely even noticed Zura crouching beside him.

He lifted his gaze. Even the sky was ashen, yellowy, bleak.

A hand touched his shoulder. He would have bolted, as the touch startled him, but he was too weak to do that. Instead he briskly looked to the side, narrowing his eyes.

He found Zura looking at him, her large eyes filled with sadness. She flinched the tiniest bit when he looked at her, but didn't remove her hand from his shoulder. Instead she squeezed it a little. "I'm sorry."

He looked away. "It's not your fault."

"No, I'm sorry you have to go through this. I can see now that you...you really loved your home."

"I did." He covered his mouth with his hand, then wiped the tears away. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

Zura sat down.

"I was dreaming of returning, you know?" he said after a while, his voice raspy. "What little I could remember, I clung to it. I wanted to see the sky, to feel the rain on my skin, to breathe clear air...to feel the touch of grass. I don't even remember what grass looks like," he grimaced. "I didn't sleep, not there, no. But every moment I had to spare, I wondered, fantasised about, prayed for going home and feeling things again. The hope...it was the only thing keeping me sane." He sniffed. "At least sane enough not to turn into a seeker," he chuckled darkly.

"Your home may be lost...but it is not dead. There is life here, only different."

"Everything is different," he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"True. But," she raised her index finger, "there is a whole world for you to explore. I promise, you will get to stand in the rain, and you will get to take your shoes off to frolic in lush grass, you will get to wonder."

"You promise?" a wisp of a smile appeared on his lips.

"I promise," she squeezed his shoulder again.

"How did it happen that...Solstheim...ended up like this?"

"Ah. Asking me for a story, are you?" she grinned at him. "You've come to the right person. See, this all goes back to Morrowind, or Resdayn, and the Tribunal…"

XXX

"I can't but notice that you've taken a liking to our ancient visitor, Zura," Vermethys commented.

"Well, yes, I've always liked people," the Ohmes smiled. Then her smile faded a bit. "And I was always foolishly drawn to strays, wasn't I?" she muttered under her breath.

"I can understand that," Vermethys kissed the khajiiti child she was holding between the ears. The cub purred. "I noticed you leave the binding stone lying in your room."

"Oh. Well, I'm not afraid of him anymore."

"Are you sure he won't harm you?"

"I am sure." Zura's brows knitted in thought. "But...what are you trying to tell me right now?"

"Keep up the effort, Zura. I shudder to think what would happen should he slip into insanity or bitterness."

"Well, if it really went that bad, couldn't the stone be used to...to…"

Vermethys raised an eyebrow. "And you think Firan's magic is going to keep him bound for long? He's weak, for now. Won't be for much longer, not with how rapidly his health keeps improving."

Zura pursed her lips. "I don't believe he will go on a rampage. No. I trust him."

Vermethys smiled. It was a strained smile. "I really hope you're right."

XXX

Dark corridors.

Screams in the distance.

Bony hands, reaching from under ragged robes, rows of teeth grinding. The hands burn, they burn, burn, burn his skin.

Run, run, run away!

Deep hum. Almost laughing. A thud. Blinding pain erupting in his head.

A scream. His own. Then splash of ink. Slimy tentacles, wrapping around him. Sinking deeper, drowning, fighting to breathe. Everything burns, scorches, sears, hotter than the sun he forgot about.

They pull him deep, deep, into the darkness filled with screams and blood.

He can't breathe.

Darkness.

Laughter.

Nothing.

XXX

He shot up with a gasp, sweat trailing down his neck. His eyes darted around. Dark, it was dark. Not home. Strange. Dangerous.

Out. Out, out, out!

Panting, he tried to jump out of the bed. His legs didn't react so well. Trembling, the limbs just gave out. He sprawled across the floor with a loud yelp.

He immediately scrambled up, grasping onto the chest of drawers with desperation, clawing at the wood.

The door opened.

His eyes darted in that direction.

He saw a small figure and a flickering glow of candlelight.

He shrieked, raising his hand. A bolt of lightning, so bright it lit up the whole room, shot through the air. It hit the doorframe. It broke the stone and went right through, slamming the broken piece of stonework against the back wall, wedging it in. Then the bolt discharged into the wall, smaller crackles of lightning running through it, leaving scorch marks.

A thunder rolled in, rumbling through the whole house.

A shaking voice, calling his name, came to his ears over his own heavy breaths. "Miraak?"

Lightning crackled around his hand. It was ready to jolt, to go, to burn. He shook his head. The big frightened orange eyes, reflecting the candlelight, were familiar. Friendly. Zura…

Sudden horror flooded over him. What has he done? Had he not been half blind, the bolt wouldn't go astray, it would hit her. He began to shake. The lightning died out and he collapsed back to the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself, curling into a ball as much as he could.

Quick steps hurried down the stairs.

"By the Three, what has happened?!"

"Shush!" Zura's voice was still shaking, but now grew determined. "Go away, I got this. It's all right. Go, you'll startle him."

There was a slight hesitation. A tap of something wooden hitting the stone floor. Hushed voices. And then steps, growing distant. Silence.

"Miraak?"

He didn't respond.

"Miraak, are you alright? Can I come in?" After another moment of silence, Zura took a deep breath. "I'm coming in."

Her soft steps neared him. He drew a sharp breath, his heartbeat quickening.

"It's just me. Little Zura. I'm going to come closer, okay?" She walked over to him, then put the candle on the floor. "Can I sit with you?"

He looked up. "I need out. Air. Please," he rasped.

"Of course. Let me just take the blanket, so we don't freeze." He heard rustling of cloth. "There." She returned to him. "Take my hand," she smiled and reached her hand out, offering it to him.

It was small. He remembered it touching him before. It was warm, caressing.

He took it, his own hand shaking. As they touched, some remaining sparkles of lightning jumped to Zura. She stifled a yelp, he could hear that much, but she didn't let go. She helped him get up, put his arm around her shoulders and then wound her free arm around his waist. She slowly led him out of the room, up the stairs and out into a surprisingly starry night.

As his eyes widened at the sight, he felt the fear retreating. His breath deepened, calmed down, and the shaking stopped. He looked around the sky, searching for the Wolven star, a star sacred to Wolf-Mother.

And there it was. So bright against the night sky, its light almost caressing his soul, reassuring, calming him down. The Wolf-Mother was there, and she hasn't forsaken him.

No more pulsing green sky, no more books piled upon books. No more prison, no more insanity, no more torment, no more whispers.

He breathed out, his breath turning into mist in the cold, and then he sat down into the ash.

Zura put the blanket around him, then huddled to him under it. They both turned their eyes up to the sky and sat in silence.

"Bad dreams?" Zura asked softly after a while, her eyes turning to Miraak.

He didn't respond. His lips twitched, though, the corners moving down a little.

Zura hummed. She slowly reached up.

He flinched. But then he calmed down and let her touch him. She wouldn't hurt him. No. Not her.

Zura pushed a stray strand of his tousled hair from his face, tugging it behind his ear. Then she got another thought and separated a strand from the rest. She began braiding it, humming an unknown tune quietly. As she did, Miraak, to his own surprise, found himself relaxing and felt tension leaving his muscles. He bent down a bit, to make it easier for Zura to reach his hair.

The braids she made unbraided on their own immediately after she released the hair, but neither Zura nor Miraak minded.

"Were you looking for a particular star?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Tell me about it."

XXX

He woke up. Zura was still breathing calmly and deeply in her bed on the other side of the room. Her room.

Miraak got up with extreme care. He didn't want to wake Zura, she deserved her sleep. It was enough that he woke her up during the night. He put his overcoat on, then quietly limped out of the room.

The dunmer woman, Vermethys, was examining her wall. Once he closed the door behind him, her piercing scarlet eyes turned to him.

He turned a bit so he could look at her better with his good eye.

They measured each other in silence, both watching the other sternly. She narrowed her eyes.

He limped over to the damaged wall. As he did, she backed away a bit, her fingers twitching and sparkling with golden energy.

Deciding to ignore her, he examined the damage. He turned to the piece of wall he tore out during the night.

Hm. Yes, he could work with that.

He pried the broken piece from the wall with telekinesis, then placed it, along with all the small pieces that split from it, back to the damaged wall. Holding it in place with telekinesis, he put both his hands on the stone and closed his eyes.

He couldn't help but feel a bit excited. This was the first time he could actually try weaving earth magic since he got greater understanding of magic as a whole. He began to work.

A smile spread across his lips. The difficulties he kept experiencing while he was...he was experiencing before, were gone. He felt the stone and the wall mending, joining together as if nothing had happened. When he opened his eyes and pulled his hand back, he found the wall repaired.

With a slight smile he went inside the room, took his satchel and returned to Vermethys, still standing in the hallway, examining the wall with disbelief.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"With magic," he tilted his head to the side. Before she could retort, he continued. "I noticed you carry a rather peculiar ring."

Vermethys reached to her heart. A small silver chain could be seen, if one looked very carefully, around her neck, going under her shirt.

"A lot of people carry some sort of jewelry."

"Not many carry an ancient artefact around their necks. Especially a dwemer artefact blessed by a goddess."

"When did you see it?" she frowned.

"It slipped from under your shirt one time while you were tending to me."

"Sneaky bastard. And what are you going to do with the information?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to give you these," he reached into the satchel and pulled several leather bound journals out of it, "as thanks."

Vermethys' jaw dropped. She took the journals from him, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. She looked at them, then looked at the first page of each.

"These...I started keeping these after they kicked me out in Seyda Neen...and not a single one is missing! I thought I lost them...where did you find them?"

"In Apocrypha, where else?" he said flatly.

"So the bastard stole them?" she cursed under her breath. Then she narrowed her eyes at Miraak. "Did you read them?"

"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't know to put them in here," he patted the satchel. "My apologies. But I am very grateful. Your journals made me remember that the impossible can be achieved."

XXX

"Are you going to eat that?"

Miraak, shuffling pieces of roasted meat across his plate with a fork, looked up. Zura was watching him curiously. They were sitting in her room eating dinner together. Vermethys ate upstairs in the mushroom tower with her family.

"No."

"I won't be eating these," she pointed towards both roasted and fresh pieces of ash yam on her plate. "Wanna trade?"

He looked at her. Then he looked at her plate. "Yes."

They switched plates and each took a bite. Both of them smiled.

"You don't eat meat?" Zura wanted to know.

"No."

Chewing, she asked. "Why?"

"Why do you want to know?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm curious. Also, I want to get to know you."

He tilted his head, looking at her with curiosity. She kept chewing happily.

"I don't like it," he finally said. "It doesn't go well with my stomach and it tastes terrible."

"I can understand that," she smiled. "So, what _do_ you like?"

He gave it a thought. "I...can't actually recall many tastes. But I remember eating vegetables and fruits."

"And what about drinks? Hm?"

"Water," he looked at her. She scoffed. His lips twitched in a slight smile. "I remember tea. Mint. And milk, especially hot milk with honey. It helps...helped...me sleep…" he trailed away.

"So, no alcohol?"

"Not that I can remember," he smiled.

She nodded. "That sounds fair. But what about that food? There must be something the mere thought of which makes you drool, come on."

A dreamy faraway look crept into his eyes as he thought about it. It was rather strange, but even his blind eye looked a bit dreamy.

"I like pastries," he said after a while. "But what really stuck to me is chocolate. Made from ground snow-wind beans."

"So a sweet tooth!" Zura grinned.

"Yes. But make no mistake, these roasted things-"

"Ash yams," Zura interrupted.

"Ash yams, well, they taste pretty good." He pursed his lips and scratched his head. "I think I recall eating some plants...you had to be very careful while picking them, because the leaves would leave your skin in fire."

Zura grimaced. "Nettles? Why would you eat nettles?"

"Because they're good, healthy, and you can find them in a lot of places." He suddenly lit up at a found memory. "Like birch bark!"

"Birch bark?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It's nutritious."

"So you just...took a piece of bark and...nibbled on it?"

He laughed. Heartily. "No, you grind it and mix it with something," he said, still laughing. "Would you take a piece of raw meat and just nibble on it?"

Seeing Miraak in such a good mood, Zura decided to sate her curiosity. "You know a lot more about food than I'd expect you to."

"Oh? Now I'm curious. What did you expect me to know?"

"I expected you'd be a very serious man with a grim face, who took care of matters of the gods and who ruled with a firm grip on his subjects. I also expected you to know things about magic, alchemy, sacred rituals, rules...I don't know, things like that."

"I am all of that," he smiled again. "And yet that's not all there is to me."

"Do tell," she put the already empty plate away and shifted to make herself comfortable on the bed.

"As you would expect, I know about the things you mentioned. Training as an acolyte and...my time in...in Apocrypha...took care of that. But," he put the plate away as well and laid down on his bed, "I didn't appear into existence at the age of...how old was I? I can't remember. No matter. I was working on the field by then, so I couldn't have been that young."

"Wait. Working on the field?" Zura perked up. "I thought priests didn't do that."

"No. They don't." He turned to his side so he could see her. His eye grew distant again. "I wasn't born to a priest. I was born in a kitchen."

"What?!" Zura opened her mouth, disbelief written on her face. "Really?"

"Really," he chuckled. "I'm just a person, if you didn't notice-"

"No, I didn't, not with all that was happening," she interrupted, a hint of sharpness in her voice. "For me, you were a terrifying faceless mask, whispering into my ear with an echoing voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at once." She calmed down a bit. "But now I see the person. I-... Sorry," she bit her lip as she saw a shadow of pain, mixed with disappointment, cross his eye. "I see the person now, that I'm not afraid anymore. And I really want to know you. Please, go on."

"Everyone has a mother," he said softly, his smile gone. "Even the most terrifying of people."

"Tell me about yours."

He looked at her with some degree of suspicion. She seemed genuinely interested, though. He sighed. "She had raven black hair…"

XXX

"Miraak! Hey, Miraak! Look what I've got!"

Miraak, sitting by the front door, which was the furthest Vermethys was content to let him go, looked at Zura. The Khajiit was smiling and holding something as if it was a divine relic.

She sat down next to him and put one on the blankets he was bundled in over herself to keep warm. Then she unwrapped her treasure.

"Hmm, smells nice. What is it?"

"A sweetroll! Geldis baked a fresh batch today, this just got out of oven," her smile widened some more. Miraak had to chuckle. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

She cut two pieces out of it and gave one to Miraak. "I thought you might like it. There's no bark in it, but it's still tasty. And it has honey!"

He shook his head, yet couldn't help but smile. He took a bite. "It is good. Very good," he almost purred.

"I buy some every time Geldis bakes. In case Bernadette came back. I usually ended up sharing them with Vermethys, but then I learnt you like sweets too."

Miraak hummed and took another bite. With the sweet taste filling his mouth and Zura sitting contentedly by his side, he felt…

Happy.

XXX

Zura stood by the shore. She was watching the sea, huddled in a thick cloak. No signs of Bernadette. She asked around Raven Rock, she even ventured out of the settlement with Miraak (after she had a fight with Vermethys about letting him go that far away, which they ended by settling upon Zura taking the binding stone with her), but found nothing.

She sighed. The winter was almost over. A week, maybe ten days and Gjalund's ship would be here. Where was that blasted woman?

XXX

"Look, I know he's better now, and that's what scares me. You can't control him if something goes wrong," Vermethys argued.

"I need to find Bernadette! By the Moons, she might be dying somewhere, she should be here already. And I need Miraak with me, to be safe."

"He's not 'safe,' Zura. He's volatile and extremely dangerous."

"And you think you can control him? Really?" Zura put her hands on her hips. "It didn't look like that when you went to Apocrypha. Also, why does everybody want to _control_ him, for Dibella's love? I wanted to _ask_ him to go with me, and I'm pretty sure he'd be glad to!"

"And if he decides he doesn't want you around, that he wants the binding stone, and just….evaporates you?"

"Why on Nirn would he do that?"

"I have no idea. Zura, you must look at the facts - as friendly as he might be to you, he's an ancient man full of hatred, who decided to slaughter dragons, _dragons_ , for Azura's sake, and then he sold himself to Hermaeus Mora. Which sentenced him to eras in Apocrypha. Might I remind you that an experience like that is NOT good for one's mental health?"

"Oh, you mean something like suffering from a mysterious disease that renders you ageless, forcing you to witness deaths of your loved ones again, and again, and for all eternity?" Zura cut back.

Vermethys flinched.

Zura curled her lip, showing her pristine teeth. "Thought little Zura was stupid, didn't you? A lot of people do. Because I'm not capable of fighting and I like stories a lot, people think I'm naive, or outright stupid. Tell you what," she frowned, "I'm not stupid. I know the story back and forth, I loved it when I was a child. You changed your name, yay. That's not going to help if you keep parading the Spear of the Hunter around, showing your scars and keep acting like a protector of your precious settlement you fought so hard to build. Not to mention your rather unique skills."

Vermethys opened her mouth, then closed it again.

"I guess everyone has their flaws. Just...don't play a know-it-all when you don't know anything. You barely even talked to him," Zura said in a softer tone.

XXX

"Where are we going?"

"I...I'm not completely sure," Zura scratched her head. "I've never been the leading one before. But I need to find Bernadette."

Miraak looked around. "Do you have something of hers?"

Zura rubbed her chin in thought. Then her face lit up and she reached for Fang hanging on her hip. "Would this do? I carry it now, but it used to be her dagger for a long time."

"We'll see," Miraak murmured. "Could you bring me a bowl filled with water, please?"

Zura went to fetch the bowl. When she returned, she found Miraak sitting on the floor, legs crossed, Fang laid out in front of him. He took the bowl from her and put it next to the dagger.

He took Fang into one hand and situated the other above the bowl, fingers spread wide. He closed his eyes.

Then, with a flare of deathly white light, his eyes snapped open. His seeing eye was now completely dull, its amber colour dimmed.

Zura shivered. Everything around them dimmed and gained a rather disturbing pale grey coloration. In the middle of everything, Miraak's blind eye was glowing with the eerie deathly light. This was exactly how she imagined Oblivion to look like.

Fang rose up above his palm and began to rotate.

Miraak spoke. He commanded. Zura backed away a bit, trembling. His voice sounded much, much more powerful now, reminding her of the faceless mask he used to be. She felt the sound vibrate inside her ribcage.

Colours suddenly started shining out of the bowl.

Her mouth agape, Zura inched closer. There was a picture on the water's surface. A coast...ashen coast. From what Zura saw, it had to be somewhere near Tel Mithryn.

Suddenly the vision shifted, flying at an incredible speed. It closed in on the sea. There was a small boat sailing along the shore. Zura could see a figure sitting in the boat, sailing it. And a lot, _a lot_ of bags.

The vision shifted once more.

Now Zura saw a familiar face. She smiled. It most definitely was Bernadette, her golden eyes shining from her pale face. But there were differences. She lost weight, that much was clear. Her cheekbones and jaw were much more prominent now that her face lost the roundness it bore before. Her hair, still shoulder-long, was braided back, with the feathers from Farkas fastened in their usual place. Her carved nordic armour looked battered.

"Have you seen what you needed to see?" Miraak asked. His voice cut through the eerie atmosphere like a knife, making Zura jump.

"Yes, yes I have, thank you."

He breathed out and closed his eyes. As he did, colours seeped back into the world, as if the deathly paleness never even came. Fang landed on Miraak's palm. He took a shaky breath, then put the dagger down and let his hands rest in his lap.

XXX

Zura looked around. Miraak, floating beside her, told her that Bernadette was near. But she couldn't see the Breton anywhere.

"Could you narrow it down?"

"I sense her not far from us. In the direction of the sea. That's all I can tell you," he muttered with his eyes closed in concentration.

Zura huffed. She saw how tired he looked, and decided not to prod him more. "To the sea, then."

As they made their way to the shore, a small boat appeared on the horizon.

XXX

"Bernadette! Bright Moons, I'm so glad to see you!" Zura squealed and hurried to hug Bernadette. The tall woman spread her arms and when the two of them met, she lifted the Khajiit into the air and spun her around.

"Zura, Zura, you have no idea how I missed you!" She put her down. "I'm so sorry I left like that, but I...I had to think about things. Alone."

"Did it help?"

Bernadette glanced at Miraak, leaning against a dead tree not far from them. "I believe it did. I don't have the urge to choke him for killing Godric anymore. Do you have the binding stone?" she turned back to Zura.

Zura pulled it out of her pocket reluctantly. "Look, I don't really-"

Bernadette snatched the stone. "Good. Hey, you!" she called out to Miraak. "Move your ass. We're going by boat the rest of the way, and you're going to push it."

He frowned. Then he winced as the rune on his chest flared up with bright red light, visible even through his clothes. It hurt and it prodded him to do as she asked. When he walked over to them, the light of the rune slowly died out.

Zura looked at him, desperation clear on her face.

As he walked by her, he gave her a wisp of a smile. It wasn't her fault.

XXX

"He looks better than last time," Bernadette noted.

Zura, standing next to her at the side of Gjalund's ship, looked back. Miraak was nestled against the mast, looking around with suspicion in his eye. He was not sick, Zura knew how he looked when he was, but he refused to move closer to either edge of the ship.

"Well, wasn't that the point?" she looked back at Bernadette.

"Yea," she rubbed her chin, also looking at Miraak. He stared right back at her, his expression unreadable. "We need him able. I'm just surprised that...he got healthy so fast."

"He spent more than half a season in healer's hands."

"True."

They fell silent for a moment, Bernadette's and Miraak's eyes still piercing each other.

"So what were you doing in the wilderness?" Zura tried to break the staring contest, growing ever so intense. "Found anything interesting?"

Bernadette looked at Zura and beamed. "Yea, I did!" She pulled her notes out. A rather large number of loose papers, evidently torn or picked from other sources, was put inside the already filled notebook. "I crawled through some dwemer ruins, I hunted wild beasts, I ventured into tombs and I found treasure! I think I have enough material for at least three studies..."

Zura nodded. Indeed, the bags and chests Bernadette hauled with her were full of gold, gems and jewelry. Not to mention how packed her notebook looked.

"I also went legend hunting. And guess what!" Bernadette grinned and led Zura to an ornate chest. "I found a set of enchanted armour, a whole set! It belonged to a famous pirate, captain Deathbrand. You know, from the book? I think I'll start my own collection instead of selling everything…"

Listening to their chatter, Miraak finally turned his gaze away.

Far above the ship, roving through the sky, three dark dots hounded the vessel.


	7. Chapter 7

**4E 202, Windhelm**

"Ysgramor had no taste," Miraak scoffed.

Bernadette and Zura, caught unaware by his comment, turned to him, their eyebrows high up.

Miraak pulled his thin cloak closer to himself. It didn't help with the cold. "This place looks absolutely horrible. And it's damnably cold."

"I thought Nords didn't mind cold?" Bernadette remarked.

Miraak shot her an annoyed glare. "It still looks like a pile of rubbish."

"Only the palace is original, you know."

"I meant the palace. I'm not going to comment the rest."

XXX

"Excuse me?!"

Miraak sneered. Watching Bernadette boil with rage brought him great pleasure.

Zura hurried to calm the Breton down. "Berni, please, the stable master couldn't know. Don't be angry at him."

Bernadette breathed out. "Alright." She took a pouch from her belt and gave it to the Altmer. "Here's the fee for our horses. If you could bring them, please?"

When the man left, Bernadette started pacing. "That...gah! Bloody stupid fucking mage! I'm going to _kill_ him! I bought that horse from OUR money! And he just...just took it, stole it and went for a stroll to the fucking Imperial City! What next, he copied my research? Stole that too? Is he rolling in admirers now? Freshly made into an adept, hungry to steal more research? Gods! If I ever get my hands on him...Mara have mercy on his wretched soul!"

Miraak looked at Zura, question in his eyes.

"She hates mages," Zura whispered to him. "She was treated badly by them. Marcurio, the mage you might recall, was with us. He promised not to steal her research. It was good. I thought, for a time, that we all were friends. I was wrong. He left us to pursue his own goals, possibly stealing Berni's work."

Miraak hummed.

Then the stable master came back and Miraak froze.

He forgot what horses were. That these were the...the...the horrible creatures. He took a step back, then another. Zura looked up at him, baffled.

"What's wrong?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going? Stop," Bernadette noticed his retreat. Her hand was stuffed in the pouch carrying the binding stone. The rune on Miraak's chest flared up. He stifled a groan and froze.

"Here are your animals, thane Bearclaw," the Altmer led the horses, unsaddled, to Bernadette and then gave their reins to her. "Your equipment is in the stable."

Miraak didn't move an inch and watched intently as the women saddled their horses. When Bernadette approached him with Zephyr in tow, he tried to back away, only to bite his lip as the rune flared again.

"Since we don't have three horses anymore, you'll ride with me," she said, throwing the reins over Zephyr's head.

He shook his head, his eyes wide open. "No. I'm not riding that thing."

"What?" Bernadette narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm not riding it!" he growled at her.

"And how will you travel, then? By foot? A snail moves faster than you, cripple. You are riding."

"I'll fly on one of the chests," he hurried to reply. "I don't see any cart around here, so you still need my skills to carry your plunder. I'll have better control if I don't have to worry about slipping. Or you throwing me off for fun."

Bernadette gave it a thought. "Alright. You can ride on a chest, if you wish."

XXX

It was a rather strange sight. Two horses, trotting next to each other, their riders chatting. Behind them followed a cluster of various luggage, flying through the cold air of Skyrim, and a man was sitting atop of the pile with his arms folded on his chest, clearly brooding.

XXX

As soon as they left snowy surroundings of Windhelm and made their way to the volcanic springs of Eastmarch, Miraak's mood changed. He rode his chest with an astonished look in his eye, lips slightly parted, turning head left and right so nothing would escape his curiosity.

Zura, after noticing his awakened interest, led her horse closer to him.

"So, what do you think?" she winked at him.

"I think that the hooved monster is too close," he grumbled, but then smiled, almost shyly. "I don't mind _your_ company, though." He looked around again, taking in the colourful water, hot air and slowly awakening plants. "It's...it's amazing. Wondrous. I've never seen anything like it."

Zura chuckled. "Wait till you see the Rift. I think you're going to love it!"

Bernadette, riding ahead, but listening in nonetheless, patted Zephyr's neck. She bit her lip. She almost slowed him to join their chatter. Almost.

XXX

A roar echoed through the sky.

Bernadette looked up. A large winged silhouette kept circling above the volcanic tundra.

"I hope your luggage ride didn't tire you," Bernadette commented, throwing a look over her shoulder back at Miraak. "I kinda want to see the famous rebel in action."

Miraak scoffed. The pile of luggage landed softly on the ground.

The dragon noticed them. It roared and took a sharp turn, flying right at them.

Miraak carefully climbed down the chest, then moved a bit further away from the pile of loot.

The dragon whizzed above them. Zura's horse reared and began to dance as she tried to get it back under control. Zephyr snorted and tossed his head, scared, but waiting for commands.

The dragon made an elegant turn, swooping at them.

Miraak tilted his head.

It was a glistening frost dragon, spikes jutting out of its back like spears. It mocked them, its deep voice rumbling through the air. Then, as it swept above them, it took a deep breath. "FO-"

Zura's horse bit the bridle and bolted.

Miraak's arms shot up, spreading wide. A broad arc of shimmering ward appeared with a flash. The frost breath hit it and splattered around, shards of ice bouncing off. Zephyr began to dance. Bernadette pulled his reins, she really wanted to see this up close.

Miraak turned around. He took a wide stance, putting most of his weight on his good leg. Little sparkles of lightning were dancing along his arms.

With a swift motion he threw several lightning whips, spread wide, after the dragon. Most of them missed, dissipating with a sizzle. Three did not. The dragon screeched as the crackling energy wound around its body and wings.

Miraak bared his teeth and pulled the whips back. As he did, the whips grew more intense, shooting smaller bolts in random direction. The dragon shrieked in pain and arched its back as the electric impulse ran through its body.

With another powerful pull at the whips the dragon crashed.

Miraak, his breathing a bit faster than usual, shook his hands to get rid of any remaining sparks. Then he slowly limped to the dragon, still screaming in pain and thrashing around in its crackling shackles. He crouched by the dragon's head, so it could see him, and growled something, his expression turning into a horrifying grimace of hatred.

Dragon's eyes widened in quiet dismay.

Bernadette shuddered.

Then, with a jerk of his hand, Miraak summoned a bolt of lightning from the sky. It hit the dragon. Upon impact, the tormented body arched even more. The dragon let out a desperate screech. It went limp as Miraak stood up, slowly disintegrating into a stream of golden specks.

While it danced around him and fluttered through his hair, slowly joining with him, he turned to look at Bernadette. A shiver ran down her spine. She felt as if the blind eye burnt a hole into her head.

She realized blood rushed to her cheeks and her breathing quickened.

With a proud toss of her head, she huffed and calmed herself.

XXX

"Come on, its nest must be around here somewhere. I bet it's that mountain," Bernadette incited Zephyr.

"Why do we have to go there?" Zura complained, still ruffled from the wild ride her horse graced her with.

"There's bound to be treasure in its lair. Perhaps a word wall."

Zura grumbled.

XXX

There indeed was a word wall.

After plundering a heavy chest and rummaging through bones lying scattered around the lair, Bernadette went to look at the wall. She went through all her pockets to find last few blank sheets of paper and the sad remnants of her ink supply.

Miraak limped closer and looked at the wall contemplatively.

As Bernadette finished the tedious copying of the text, he folded his arms on his chest. "All praise Bard Lunerio, whose golden music became frost here in the night."

Her head snapped up. "What did you just say?"

"I read what is written here," he raised an eyebrow.

"You can read it? Speak it?!"

"Of course."

"Of course?!" she flailed her arms in the air. "Of course! Only the greatest idiots in the land can't do that, obviously!"

"Obviously," his lips twitched in a slight smile.

She stood right in front of him, their noses almost touching. They were similarly tall, with Miraak being several centimeters taller. She stabbed her index finger against his chest. "And you just couldn't say that earlier? So I could keep my paper, and ink, and didn't have to do all that stupid copying?!"

"No," he smirked.

Her cheeks flushed. She quickly masked it with a furious scowl. "Ha, ha, mister, you got me. Next time, be so kind and read it BEFORE I do all the needless work!"

"As you wish."

His tone made Bernadette redden even more. She scoffed and stomped away to poke through a pile of bones she had already picked clean.

Zura, standing a bit further from them and holding the horses, decided to allow one sly smile for herself.

XXX

Bernadette, sitting alone in the darkness, shot a glance over her shoulder. Zura was just trying to convince Miraak to soak in the pool they camped by.

Bernadette sighed, turned her gaze back into the darkness and ran her thumb along the prayer beads Zura had given her. She was praying to Mara every evening since that day. She sighed again. She was not material for Mara, was she?

She looked back over her shoulder. Zura was already sitting in the pool, grinning at Miraak. After another encouragement, he reluctantly undressed. Bernadette didn't look away, she rather enjoyed watching him do it.

She bit her lip. He was still thin, but nonetheless...

He laid down, only his head sticking out of the water. Zura, grinning still, splashed him. Then she laughed and began to spin some story, gesturing dramatically as she spoke.

Bernadette smiled. Zura was a saint. She had to be, or a blessing sent from the Divines.

She looked back at the beads and at Godric's amulet of Talos she was holding in her other hand. Guilt flooded her.

When she was traipsing through Solstheim on her own, she did a lot of contemplating. She also vented her rage and sorrow at her enemies, which helped. And she realized one thing that made her hate herself. She didn't actually mind that Godric was gone. She didn't really know him, and after the shock of his death subsided, she, to her horror, became aware that she felt...nothing. He was gone. And what? People were leaving her all the time.

But what kind of person felt nothing, what kind of person was untouched by death of someone they knew?

She frowned and put the amulet away.

She looked up. The stars were hidden behind a veil of clouds. She put the beads around her neck and hid them under her shirt. Then she sank into herself, burying her head into her hands.

XXX

A shriek woke her. Bernadette shot up, fully awake, her golden sword in hand. She jumped to her feet, looking around nervously.

She saw nothing.

She lowered the sword.

Now she realized she heard hushed whispers and quick, shaky breathing. She turned around. Miraak was sitting up, his eyes wide and his breathing haggard. Little sparkles of lightning danced around him, sizzling quietly. Zura was sitting beside him. She spoke softly in khajiiti and her hands rested gently on his shoulders.

Bernadette sheathed the sword and scoffed.

XXX

With each day on the road they saw more and more signs of destruction. A burnt village. Empty fields. Cattle roaming the land on their own. Bodies scattered along a less frequented road. Destroyed forest, frozen solid, with spikes of ice glistening in the strengthening sunlight of spring. A damaged fort, as of last autumn occupied by guards, now taken by bandits. They carefully avoided it.

Bernadette pressed her lips together. It was her fault.

Behind her, Miraak's expression kept hardening with each scene they witnessed. He didn't even spare a look at the nature around them.

XXX

Finally. Riften.

The walls were damaged by frost blasts, but otherwise it looked the city was in good shape.

That thought perished after they came closer.

Refugees were pouring into Riften. Upon closer inspection, the walls had close to collapsing. Spikes of frost still clung to buildings, cooling the air around them.

Luckily it was a frost dragon what attacked Riften. The city wouldn't survive an inferno.

As they neared the gates and the flock of refugees waiting to be let in, people started to recognize Bernadette. They began to clear the way, bowing with esteem in their broken expressions. Some called her name.

"Thane Bearclaw! It's her!"

"She's back!"

"Thane Bearclaw came to save us!"

At the gates, but before they could get to the guards, a woman in dirty clothes approached them. She was injured, but cared not for her own wounds. She grabbed Bernadette's stirrup.

"My thane, help, please! My baby, she's ill, she won't…" the woman sobbed and revealed a bundle she was holding.

Bernadette saddened, her expression dropping. "I…"

"I can help," Miraak said softly from behind her. "I'm a healer."

Both women looked to him. He was standing next to Bernadette's pile of plunder, lying on the ground. He looked at Bernadette. "Please."

The woman looked at Bernadette too. The Breton bit her lip. Then she smiled reassuringly and nodded. "He will help. You can trust him."

As the woman reluctantly neared Miraak, Bernadette turned to Zura. "Stay here. Look after the treasure. I'll go and fetch Mjoll, then we'll help these people get inside. And share out the loot safely."

Zura nodded. "You can leave Zephyr with me. I'll get him to the stables when this matter is resolved."

Bernadette smiled and dismounted. She shot one last look at Miraak. He was gently touching the baby, his hands glowing with warm golden light. It was different from Vermethys' light, even from a distance it felt more like a caress, a warm, safe haven. Golden specks and sparkles danced around him, reminiscent of sunlit dust. As he healed the baby, the golden warmth extended to the woman as well, who breathed out and closed her eyes in relief.

Another refugee was already hurrying to him.

Bernadette sighed. She turned around and quickly made her way to the gate. Luckily one of the guards posted there was Bjorn.

XXX

"My jarl," Bernadette bowed.

"So you've finally appeared," the jarl looked at her sternly. "Might I know what have you been up to?"

"I went to Solstheim to retrieve a Dragonborn, my jarl. He's an experienced dragon slayer."

"I thought you already had one?"

"That one...died."

The jarl and her steward exchanged a confused look.

"So...now that you have this dragonslayer, can you actually do something about those murderous beasts?"

"I believe so, my jarl."

"Good. Then get to it."

"As you command. Might I have few suggestions before I leave? For defending Riften."

"I'm listening."

"First, the walls. They need to be repaired. Refugees could help build, and could be paid in food, as I imagine they don't have much of it. Second, ballistae on the towers and battlements would be tremendously useful. I heard that Balimund makes steel that can pierce through dragon scales? Have him make the arrows for ballistae. I can teach some craftsmen how to build the weapons in the meantime. And last, I can share a formula for a harmless frost bomb, which could prove useful in case a fire breathing dragon decides to attack. To douse fires. Again, the refugees can help gather ingredients."

"That sounds….very effective," jarl Laila smiled. "Why can't Maven ever come up with something so smart? Good job, thane. Take Mjoll and get to it."

XXX

The evening slowly rolled into a night. Bernadette, rather tired after running around all day, instructing and organising people, especially craftsmen, decided that it was enough for one day. Mjoll and Aerin kept working, as well as Zura, redistributing most of the treasure Bernadette hauled back from Solstheim. She decided to keep gems and artifacts for herself, but there was enough coin in the plunder to help a lot of people in need.

Where was Miraak?

She saw him several times throughout the day, mingling with people, healing whoever needed it. If she remembered right, the last time she saw him, he was with priests of Mara.

Bernadette huffed and made her way to the temple.

Quite a number of people sat inside. Most of them occupied the seats, praying silently to Mara. The only priest in vicinity was Maramal. Bernadette came to him.

"Mara's blessing to you, thane," he smiled warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Miraak. The half blind healer that came with me. Do you know where he is?"

"The last time I saw him he was with Dinya Balu, making the rounds through the canal quarter, where most of the refugees are placed."

"Thank you."

XXX

When she found them, Miraak and Dinya were just leaving a smelly, but rather safe canal refuge. Both looked exhausted, ready to collapse into a bed.

"Hey!" she called out to them and waved her hand. She hurried to catch up with the healers.

"Thane Bearclaw," Dinya Balu smiled tiredly, gentle wrinkles gracing her face. "Good to see you back, and as warm hearted as ever. These poor souls need it desperately."

Bernadette nodded. "You two look like you need to rest, desperately. I came to take Miraak from you, Dinya, as I am sure he didn't eat," she looked at him pointedly. "And he needs to sleep. If we are to resolve this dragon mess, we need him to stay alive. Come, come," she motioned for Miraak to follow. "You should take some care for yourself, too, Dinya."

Dinya smiled and left with a short goodbye. Bernadette grabbed Miraak and started to drag him towards the Bee and Barb. She had to stop after few steps, because he was stumbling from exhaustion and limped heavily.

She sighed. "Come on, you idiot. Lean on me."

XXX

Bernadette was the first to wake up. She peeked inside Zura's room, only to find both Miraak and Zura fast asleep in their beds.

She left Honeyside. She made stops, checking upon several craftsmen and her guard captain. Then she stopped in a tailor's shop, from where she brought quite a bundle of clothing. The last stop she made by Balimund, who was just heating up his forge.

"Thane."

"Good morning, Balimund."

"What can I help you with?" he smiled and wiped his hands.

"Do you have enough fire salts to work the forge?"

"For now."

"I'll look for some when I set out, then. Do you have leather armour? Not for me. For a lean man about my height? Not too heavy, but offering at least some protection."

"Let me look." He went inside his home, then returned with three cuirasses. "I have this one, just simple leather. Then there is this ornate one, the noble who commissioned never came for it, it's made of hardened leather of the best quality. It comes with these pauldrons. And last, but not least, I have this studded brigandine, similar to your own. It's lined with fur, made for venturing into colder areas of Skyrim."

"I'll take the brigandine. And some boots and gloves with it, please. If you have any lined with fur, that would be terrific."

Yea, Brigandines were great. She was actually looking forward to the moment she could pull her spare out and put it back on. This carved nordic armour didn't fit her. At all.

XXX

After she set her bundle to the table in her study, she fixed breakfast. For all of them. Radishes and pumpkin with saltrice, and a kettle of herbal tea. It was probable that none of them would get to eat a proper meal during the rest of the day, so why not have a hearty breakfast.

As she ate, she looked through a pile of letters that Mjoll had kept safe for her. There was quite the number of them. She never thought that her absence would be noticed this much.

There were several letters from the Imperial Library. Those were opened, but since no one arrested her, no Stormcloak officer managed to realize what was actually written in the letters. She grinned. The letters were formulated quite innocently, but when one read in between the lines, knowing what phrases and formulations to look for, one got quite different message.

The Master Scribe was concerned for her safety. Oh, right, she forgot to tell him about Solstheim and since she didn't send any report for most of autumn and whole winter…

She quickly eyed the other letters. Mostly from people she knew, but not that well. Then there were two letters from Farkas, bless his heart. The first one was just the regular sort he wrote, the other was rather worried. There were even few lines from Vilkas added under Farkas' sloppy handwriting.

She didn't tell the twins, either. She was a rather lousy friend, wasn't she? She sighed.

The last two were from Flavia and Octavian. She smiled. Of course they didn't put their real names on correspondence going to Stormcloak territory, but she knew. And both were terribly worried for her life.

She went to fetch some papers and ink.

XXX

"From what I've heard, a large portion of the countryside is devastated," Zura commented. She put another spoonful in her mouth. "I did some listening and talking. Both the dragons and the civil war are ravaging the land mercilessly, burning farms and villages. The dragons often steal cattle, too. Sometimes even people, if rumours can be trusted."

Miraak, up to now sitting quietly and eating in the corner, grumbled.

Bernadette looked at him. "Why are they doing that? I thought they were some sort of...aedric..maybe? Otherworldly. Otherworldly creatures. With all that rising from the dead, never actually being dead, breathing magic, eating worlds and all the other bullshit."

"They don't need sustenance," he said, his voice darkening, "but they enjoy the taste of blood. They love to sow fear, to dominate, to show their power."

"Dark Moons," Zura breathed out. "They sound as bad as Daedra."

Miraak growled something in an ancient language neither of the women understood.

"Well…" Bernadette sealed the last of the letters she had been composing, "three more days of fortifying Riften, then we're off to do something about this mess."

"What will that be?" Miraak looked at her.

"I...I'm not really sure," she reluctantly admitted. "I have no idea how to stop a dragon reign. Nor do you. Since you failed so spectacularly," she looked at him, challenge in her eyes. He scoffed, but remained silent.

"I remember the Greybeards wanting the Horn of...what was it? Some horn, I have it in my notes. After I'm finished with today's work, I'll have a look, we'll start there. Oh, since we're talking about the venture…"

She got up and tapped Miraak's shoulder. "That bundle over there, that's for you. So you don't fucking freeze, you stupid Nord."

"I'm not a Nord," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What, then? Imperial?"

"Atmoran."

"Ancient Nord, then!" Bernadette clapped her hands. "A world of difference, my apologies. Be a good ancient Nord and get out of those dunmeri rags, I can almost see your ass through the cloth. No wonder you're trembling like an aspen tree in the wind all the time."

XXX

Miraak watched Bernadette saddle her hooved menace. When the horse looked at him, he recoiled, taking several steps further away from the animal.

Annoyed, he tugged at his long tunic. It seemed that people of this age were in love with their pants, since that was what most of them wore. And he had to wear as well. Bernadette bought him thick brown pants, dark brown shirt with long sleeves, exceptionally thick dark red tunic, rather long, but still too short to be called a robe, embroidered red shawl, even warmer than the rest of the clothing, fur lined boots, gauntlets, heavy cloak and the infernal brigandine she forced him to wear.

How he hated it.

Less than the horses, though. The beast was looking at him again. He scowled at it.

"Stop being such a grump, old man," Bernadette remarked with a smirk. "Zephyr is the sweetest of animals."

The horse snorted and tossed its head. Miraak curled his lip and took another step away. _He_ had a different opinion.

Bernadette opened her mouth to tease him some more, but then she noticed something in the distance. Since she looked there with such intent, Miraak decided to have a look as well.

Three figures were approaching. One large, no, huge, clearly male, reminding Miraak of Hakon. The man had two women in tow, one tall and lean, the other small and sturdy.

"Farkas?" Bernadette called out, almost squeaking. Miraak had to cover his mouth to hide a smirk he could not suppress.

"Dette?" the man, Farkas, bellowed. His rough voice turned strangely warm and inviting.

"Farkas!" Bernadette let Zephyr's reins go and rushed to the man. Miraak backed away a bit, since now the monstrosity was free to do as it wished.

Zephyr bent his head down and began to graze.

Miraak watched as Bernadette, giggling like a little girl, jumped at the man. He caught her and spun her around few times, then put her down. They started talking excitedly.

Zura went to the group with her own horse in tow. Miraak groaned and withdrew from the horses, nearing the two women, standing aside awkwardly.

He narrowed his eyes at them. There was something strange about the two...one was dark-skinned, the taller one. She was hiding beneath a heavy black hood, only the lower half of her face visible. The other was a Nord, strangely small, but rather sturdy, blonde and smiling in a welcoming way.

Yet there was something in her smile that reminded him of a predator.

They noticed he was watching them. The Nord waved at him, her smile broadening. The dark woman scoffed.

Miraak tilted his head. He was all bristled, his subconscious mind warning him about the two. There was one sure way to find out why. He closed his eyes and invoked the Sight.

Once his eyes opened, his eyebrows went way up.

The dark woman's eyes were swirling, glowing pools of blood, slowly dripping into the black void of her soul. Her silhouette, black and tattered, kept shifting in front of his Sight, as if it wanted to drift away, hide from him.

The Nord was some sort of a cat. He clearly saw the golden fur rising on a huge muscular form, strangely humanoid. One of Huntsman's cursed, it seemed, since there was no old god protecting her.

Speaking of the old gods...

Ignoring their alarmed looks, he turned to Bernadette.

Hm. There were no bears anymore. No bear man. But her friend also belonged to the Hunstman. One of his hounds. What strange company did Bernadette keep.

He chuckled. Strange company like himself, hm?

With that he closed his eyes again. When he opened them, the Sight revoked, he found out that the two women neared him, both watching him with suspicion. And fear. He looked at them, tilting his head a bit to see better.

"What was that?" the dark woman asked, hissing in a low tone.

"A little bit of magic, bloodchild," he retorted.

The woman recoiled as if he bit her. She and the Nord exchanged startled looks.

"What's going on?" Bernadette jumped in all of a sudden. "Why are you staring at him? Haven't you ever seen a half blind idiot?"

Miraak raised an eyebrow at her.

"They must have, Skjor is in the hall all the time," Farkas chuckled. Bernadette grinned at him.

Zura decided to join the conversation. "So...are we staying a bit longer?"

"No," Bernadette, still grinning, answered. "We're going to hunt for a dragon! Together."

"Oh, so I won't be doing all the work this time?" Miraak bit in.

"You just need to eat its soul," she waved him off, "now we have the finest warriors in all of Skyrim at our side. The Companions!"

Miraak raised an eyebrow and curled his lip. "As in...the Five Hundred?"

"Yea."

"These are supposed to be…oh, Wolf-Mother, how low the mighty have fallen," he dragged his palm across his face.

XXX

The dragon's nest was close to the border of the Rift, a ruined watchtower the name of which Miraak didn't bother to remember. It turned out that the _mighty_ Companions asked for Bernadette's help because Farkas knew she already killed at least one dragon, whereas they, albeit being paid for it, failed to bring down even a single one.

Miraak scoffed.

Not that he was a fan of Ysgramor and his drunkards, but the warriors earned some respect with their skill, at least.

And now?

A company of monsters, playing at heroes.

XXX

The company split into groups. Bernadette walked with Farkas, holding her horse on a tight leash, since it was getting frightened all the time. How very strange. Horses and werewolves should be the best of friends, no?

Then there were the two women, walking quietly and keeping together. They looked at Miraak, from time to time. He always graced them with a stare that made them turn their gaze back forward.

Zura kept moving from group to group. Sometimes she rode a bit ahead, or dismounted her horse and joined Miraak, limping alone on the tail of this venture.

XXX

It was rather strange, seeing Bernadette giggle and smile all the time. Her eyes bright, she kept chatting with Farkas, her voice almost turning bubbly. She even laughed from time to time. Very loudly. Heartily.

She seemed so...young.

She was young, Miraak had to remind himself. She couldn't be much more than twenty winters old, judging from her appearance.

He kept watching her with curiosity. This young woman full of life, so different from the stern, vulgar warrior, intrigued him. She made him think about her in a different way, to join these two different Bernadettes together into a whole new being. She also made him remember people long dead. Feelings he had long since forgotten. Happier times.

He sighed. Annoyed by strange feelings followed by deep melancholy nestling in his chest, he got up and limped away from the circle of light, cast by the fire in their camp.

He was better off alone in the darkness, anyway. The only tormentor lurking in there was himself.

XXX

He watched the moons travel across the sky. He watched the stars shine bright, then slowly fade out. Sitting alone, his back against a tree, he barred himself, trying not to hear the screams echoing deep inside.

He didn't dare to close his eyes. Instead he kept them on the Wolven star intently.

When the sun climbed up the sky, he let out a breath of relief.

XXX

According to what Bernadette said, they should arrive at the lair tomorrow. Good. The less time he had to spend with these "Companions," the better. Both of the she-monsters were rather hostile to him, probably because he discovered their true nature.

Since he wasn't allowed to blast them into the void, he had to endure the hostility. And it grew ever more annoying. All the suspicious looks. Soft growls, teeth flashing when no one was looking. Tension when he walked by. The she-cat tried to approach him and actually talk to him several times, but the bloodchild would always stop her.

XXX

With a sky shaking roar, the dragon took off. As he did, he swung his tail, hitting the werewolf. The hit sent Farkas over the edge of the ruined watchtower.

Miraak, leaning against a ruined wall, chuckled. He spread his fingers. When Farkas hit the wide net of telekinetic energy Miraak conjured, the priest clenched his fingers, keeping only a fragment of the net existing, to gently set the werewolf on the ground. Then he summoned a ward to protect himself and Zura, hiding behind the wall. Fire splashed at it.

She poked her head up.

"Why aren't you helping?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He shrugged. "Her highness said she had the finest warriors in the land."

Zura rolled her eyes. "Look, I get it, you want to stick it up her bottom, but, please, could you keep your drama for a less life threatening situation?"

He sighed and stretched a bit. "Oh well, since you asked so nicely…" Another blast of fire spattered across his ward with a loud "boom." Zura vanished behind the wall with a yelp. Miraak flinched a little. He didn't like this large amounts of fire.

Releasing the ward, he cracked his knuckles and looked up, watching the dragon's flight carefully. This bronze was sloppy...he moved in patterns.

When the dragon stopped to spew flames at Bernadette, Miraak hit him with a spray of lightning whips. Several whips connected, winding around the scaly body.

This bronze was far tougher than the frost dragon, though.

With a deafening roar the warrior dragon hit the ground. He growled as the impact forced the air out of his lungs, but then he flexed his muscles against the whips. Slowly, putting his strength against Miraak's, he unfurled his wings.

Miraak cursed and let the whips go. The dragon arched his neck, turning his piercing eyes to the priest. "You will burn for your insolence, meat," the dragon snarled in dovahzul.

Miraak bristled. "Not even the General accomplished that, little lizard! TIID KLO UL!"

Time around him grew almost still and the world dulled into grey. Miraak scoffed. He hopped down the tower, strolling through the air to the dragon, ever so slowly opening his maw. As he neared the scaly bastard, Miraak began gesturing.

Time found itself again and returned to normal.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" the dragon shouted, releasing scalding stream of flames. It hit the tower and melted some of the rocks. The dragon closed his maw and narrowed his eyes. The little mortal wasn't there. Where was he?

"Right here," Miraak's voice came from under the dragon's head.

The dragon growled. Maw wide open, he bit down at the source of the voice.

Miraak roared and spread his arms, bursting with electricity. An explosion followed. Crackling and sizzling, Miraak's silhouette burst with lightning, splitting into a net of blue energy, engulfing the dragon.

The dragon shrieked, his whole body going into seizure. Thunder rolled in.

Miraak reached up. The sky rumbled and darkened. His lips pressed together into a stern line, the priest brought his clenched fist down. A single bolt of lightning, reminiscent of a sizzling, shifting column, shot down, hitting the dragon.

Deafening thunder, making pebbles dance on the ground, rolled in.

Miraak wiped his hands.

XXX

"Thank you for helping us so _promptly_ ," Bernadette snapped at him. Miraak raised an eyebrow.

"You're welcome."

She scoffed. "Would you _please_ be so kind and read this for me?" she pointed to the dragon wall.

"As her highness wishes," his lips twitched and he gave a hint of a bow. "Noble Nords remember these words of the hoar father: To kill in glorious war is to honor oneself, to die in glorious war is to honor all of Skyrim."

"It really says that?" Farkas wondered. "I thought all the dragon people were rubbish. This sounds like something Ysgramor would say."

Miraak grimaced and turned his blind eye to Farkas. Better not to look at this "warrior." He almost scoffed. Just the same idiot like all the others, lusting for blood. If they rather sought to protect…

He hummed to himself. But that was what these three daedra-cursed were doing, was it not? Even if for money. He tilted his head to steal a thoughtful look at Farkas, smiling at Bernadette.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why are we here again?" Zura grumbled. She wasn't in the best of moods, not after a rather cold and hasty trip to Whiterun, on her own, then back to Windhelm.

"Did the captain of the guard believe you?"

Zura sniffed and pulled her cloak closer. "Yes, he did. I had to muster all my charm, though. And wave your name around a bit. Thane Bearclaw carries some value to it, not so much the Singing Cat."

"Good. Maven won't get to spread her claws," Bernadette breathed out in relief. "As for your previous question...we need to get to Ustengrav. It's on the border of the Morthal swamp. It will be much easier to get there via ship, the snow up north is still too thick for horses. We take a ship from here to Dawnstar, there we rent a boat and sail as close as we can, then delve to Ustengrav."

"Uh-huh. I can't wait to wade through snow reaching up to my waist," Zura scowled. Miraak, huddled grumpily in his shawl, nodded in agreement to that.

"You can always go back to Riften," Bernadette tilted her head.

"You wish! Nope. You won't get rid of me that easily!"

Bernadette smiled. "I know." She kissed Zura on top of her head. "Come on, the ship's going to sail soon."

XXX

It was a merchant ship, carrying a rather pricey cargo. Well, what was left of it, anyway, after stopping and unloading in Windhelm. It also carried a rather curious merchant family, a mix of Nords and Dunmer.

Zura withdrew into their small sleeping quarters, where she pulled a rather large, leather bound tome out of her pack. She sat on a bench right next to Miraak, having a nap, most probably an involuntary one. The last time she looked at him he was awake, staring into the distance.

Bernadette joined them after a while. She nestled on Zura's other side, so the Khajiit was situated in the middle.

"What's that?" Bernadette peeked over Zura's shoulder.

"Shhh," the Khajiit hushed her and pointed to Miraak. "Lower your voice. I noticed he's been neglecting sleep on purpose while we were hunting the dragon, and I don't think he stopped with it," she whispered to Bernadette. Then she tapped the book. "I started with my book."

"Really?" Bernadette perked up. She ignored Zura's shushing and looked at the half filled page. She frowned. "This doesn't sound like what you were planning to write…"

"No," Zura put the book away so Bernadette couldn't peek inside, "I changed my mind. I decided to write about you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You deserve to have your story told. He does, too. Your stories, it's the stuff that ends up on people's minds as legends, Berni. Like the story of knight Sabian Wilderheart and his comrades. I would like it to be a real story, with everything that should be said, not a hero's song bellowed at taverns after too many beers."

"But-"

Zura raised her index finger. "A young woman, headstrong, courageous, rash, a warrior and a scholar in one person, rose from her lowly beginnings to brave the frozen north in a quest to unearth a man lost to history, a mighty dragon priest, who rebelled against the tyranny of the Dragon Cult once in the past, and together they embark to stop Alduin the World-Eater." She clicked her tongue. "How does that sound, hm?"

Bernadette sat there, her mouth agape in astonishment.

"I even have one of the first songs," Zura smiled. "I composed it while I was looking after him," she motioned towards Miraak, "and let me tell you, it was completely different. Not like the sweet stupid nothings I was toying with before. This was powerful. I could see the dragons as I played it, I'm telling you."

"But...what about your romance?"

"I can write something smaller on the side," Zura waved her hand dismissively. "Besides," she smiled slyly, "perhaps even this epic will have it, right?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Him?! No, you-"

Miraak shifted. "I was wondering why the voices sounded different," he mumbled sleepily. "But it was just you two, not them."

"Who _them_?" Bernadette and Zura asked in unison.

"Wha?" he blinked, then rubbed his eyes.

"You said it was us, not _them_. Voices. Who are _them_?" Bernadette pressed.

Miraak frowned, saying nothing.

"Are they the ones that haunt your dreams?" Zura asked softly, laying her hand on his shoulder. He moved away from her touch and pressed his lips together.

Bernadette opened her mouth to prod him some more, but then she closed it and looked to the side. "Shh. Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"There's a commotion on the main deck." She jumped to her feet and began to put her armour on hastily.

XXX

By the time the three of them got up on deck, it was clear the merchant vessel was under attack. Three slender ships with dark sails bearing a crudely painted red horker signature closed in on their beamy ship. Arrows kept darting through the air. Even some ballistae shots.

An arrow whizzed so close to Miraak it ruffled his hair.

He whipped around and released a bolt of lightning. It went askew, missing the archer.

"Damn it!" He ducked to avoid another arrow. As he did, his foot slipped. In an attempt to regain balance, he stepped on his bad leg in a wrong way. It gave out with a wave of piercing pain. He sprawled across the deck with a yelp.

The first ship was close enough to grapple. Hooks flew into the air, landing on the deck. As Miraak slowly scrambled up, cursing at his aching leg, the ships neared each other even more.

Pirates jumped aboard.

Another arrow hissed through the air. Thud! It buried into Bernadette's shield, quickly risen to protect Miraak.

They exchanged looks.

"Well, what are you waiting for, grump?" she raised an eyebrow. "Sink those blighters!" With that, she lowered the shield and charged into the fray with a fierce battle cry.

He tried to put weight on his aching leg. Nope! Not good. He sighed and lifted himself up into the air. Great. Now he was a clear target. With a scowl he began to stir the sky above. As he did, his arms heated up, tiny flames leaping around his fingers.

He knotted his brows in concentration. He bit his lip. Only small fires. These wouldn't hurt him. Steady. Now was not the time for fear.

He steered away from another arrow flying in his direction.

Of course the pirates noticed a flying figure lit by dancing flames. Wanting for the flames to go away, he screamed and made a motion as if he was tearing something apart.

The dark clouds, brewing above their heads, parted. A huge ball of flame came hurtling down, leaving a tail of thick black smoke. With a roaring sound it splattered on the deck of the farhtest ship, erupting into an all-consuming inferno. The impact almost broke the ship in half. Smaller explosions appeared as the flames grew in intensity, tearing the ship apart.

Bernadette, having just cut an opponent down, shot a quick glance in his direction. "I thought you did lightning only! THAT was great!" she shouted, grinning wickedly.

He sneered at her and started another fiery brew.

Halfway through the incantation, an arrow hit him in the arm. It jerked him backwards. With a grunt he stopped the movement. A quick look back revealed that he was dangerously close to the edge of the ship.

With a huff he renewed his efforts.

But there were too many pirates fighting aboard their ship. Bernadette and the few remaining guards faced too many foes.

Miraak let out an annoyed sigh, discarded the incantation and lifted himself a bit higher. With a wave of his hand howling winds appeared out of nowhere, sweeping the pirates off the deck like troublesome bugs.

Gritting his teeth, he jerked his arms upwards. The winds flew high up, carrying the screaming pirates into exceptional heights. At a flicker of Miraak's fingers the winds scattered, releasing the pirates. As they plummeted down, screeching horribly, the winds reformed and swished lower, rippling the surface of the sea.

Miraak made a swift motion with his arm. The winds, sweeping in between the ships, transformed into a blade of shimmering energy. With a whizz the blade went through the ropes connecting both ships, cutting them clean.

Blood kept trickling down his arm. The wound was pulsing painfully, not to mention his leg. Keeping concentration on two spells was tougher and tougher.

With a shiver, he released the winds.

After he closely avoided few more arrows, one of which he managed to avoid by sheer accident when the fly spell faltered a bit, he decided there was no time for another inferno. Having troubles staying in the air he quickly conjured several smaller fireballs. Those exploded, so he didn't need to concentrate on precision.

He hurtled several at the ship further away. As he did, he noticed Bernadette was shooting her crossbow at figures running across the deck of the closer pirate ship.

Three fireballs went askew, hitting the ocean and creating columns of steam.

Two found their mark. Boom! Boom! The ship caught fire, which quickly spread.

Fireballs. Simple. Always reliable, if one desired a lot of explosions.

Just when he hurled another at the last untouched ship, he noticed a ballista bolt flying his way. His eyes widened. It was too close. Panicking, he summoned a shield.

The bolt hit it with a dull thud. Miraak heaved. The shield dissipated as the hit catapulted him backwards. Above the open sea. Open. Sea.

Fear flooded his mind.

He felt the magicka slipping from him.

With one last command, he shot himself towards the ship.

And then the magicka scattered. With a scream he dropped from the sky. Reaching out, he tried to grab the railing of the ship.

But he misjudged the distance. His hands grasped nothing but air.

His back hit the surface of the sea. It was _freezing_.

The last thing he heard before the water closed above him was Zura screaming his name.

Then the cold came. Darkness.

Nothing.

XXX

"Miraak! MIRAAAAK!"

Bernadette flipped around. Her chest tightened. Zura kept running around the railing on the far side of the ship, screaming desperately. Miraak was nowhere to be seen.

It looked like the fight was won. She rushed over to Zura.

"What, what?"

"Miraak! He fell down," Zura sobbed and pointed wildly at the water. "He...he...he just went under the water and didn't come up!"

The surface of the sea was still visibly disturbed a little bit further from the ship.

Bernadette cursed and tossed the crossbow on the deck. She grabbed a rope, lying nearby, and threw it to Zura. "Fasten it to the railing," she ordered as she tied the other end around herself. She downed one of the potions she carried on her belt and took a running jump over the railing.

When the freezing waters of the Sea of Ghosts closed above her, she thanked Zenithar. The potion of frost resistance worked well enough. As she sank lower, she reached for two rings hidden in one of her inner pockets. She put both on.

Suddenly she could breathe. The other ring took a bit longer to activate, but as it did, the cold, wet darkness around her lit up with brilliant white light. With another thanks to the Eight for finding these rings in Solstheim, she looked around.

There he was. Floating a bit below her, looking positively dead. A slaughterfish was nearing him carefully.

Bernadette kicked the fish hard in the head. Then she hurried to wrap her arms around Miraak, pulling him close.

Just in time. The rope tied around her tightened, then jerked her backwards. The ship was sailing away. Holding him close to her chest with one arm, she reached for another potion. When she drank it, almost choking on saltwater she swallowed along with the potion, the water beneath her feet became solid.

She took off running, climbing the water like stairs.

Soon she emerged from the water. Miraak became so much heavier in her grasp, she barely managed to keep a hold of him. She grunted and stopped for a moment to grab him better. She almost lost her footing when the rope jerked her forward again. She charged after the ship, water splattering away from her boots.

"HELP US UP, DAMN IT!" she bellowed at the sailors, watching with disbelief.

XXX

Having followed Zura's instruction, Bernadette did what she could to resuscitate Miraak while the Khajiit carefully removed the arrow and dressed the wound. Now she and Zura sat on one of their small beds, wrapped up in blankets, trying to keep Miraak warm in between them. He wasn't moving or responding, but at least he had a pulse and regained some colour.

After her daily prayers, Bernadette decided to send Mara a prayer for Miraak's life as well.

XXX

Bernadette snapped awake. Something was wrong!

Then she realized what it was. Miraak, still in her embrace for warmth, was shifting and mumbling from his slumber, weakly trying to fight free from her arms.

So he was having nightmares? That was good, right? Because he was well enough to have them... Bernadette looked up, only to find Zura asleep. No, she wouldn't wake her, she needed sleep, too. So what now?

Zura always spoke to him and touched him gently to calm him down. Maybe it could work? But what should she say? She decided just to babble what came to her mind.

"You don't have to fight, you know?" she whispered into his ear. Hopefully the tone was reassuring enough. "I'm trying to help you. You want to stay warm, don't you? Just calm down, grump. You're safe, no _they_ are here. Shhhh."

Strangely enough, he calmed down a bit.

Bernadette gently ruffled his hair. It was completely dry by now, though awfully riddled with salt. So was hers, to her great chagrin.

As she kept playing with his hair absentmindedly, the mumbling ceased. After a while Bernadette was even rewarded by a soft sigh of relief. On an impulse, she pulled him closer to her. Then, almost ashamed, but unable to stop herself, she nuzzled against his neck.

It felt…nice.

He evidently thought so, too, since all remaining tension left him and soon his breath deepened. Bernadette nestled her head against him comfortably and closed her eyes.

The room grew quiet soon enough.

XXX

Bernadette slowly woke up. She yawned.

"Morning, your highness," Miraak grumbled.

"Morning, grump. I'm kinda surprised you didn't worm away the moment you woke up."

He was silent for a while. "You're warm," he finally admitted with reluctance.

She grinned. "A-ha! So you're not _that_ proud."

"I'm cold," he remarked and shuddered. "I've never before in my life been so cold."

"Well, you _did_ get a dip in the Sea of Ghosts," Bernadette chuckled. She pulled him closer, pressing his back to her torso. "Why did you fall, again? I thought your magicks were beyond powerful."

He scoffed. "They are. But, to weave magicka, you need to concentrate. Concentrating tends to get increasingly difficult with growing pain. Let me assure you that an arrow wedged into one's arm is painful enough to disrupt it considerably, and piled up with spasms of pain in that gods damned leg of mine, along with getting hit by a ballista bolt? Not even the greatest of the gifted could hold any spell in a situation like that, highness."

Bernadette giggled. "Ooooh, someone got all educational. I like that wise tone, grump, especially paired with the appropriate addressing."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"How about emotions?" she inquired after a while, genuine curiosity in her voice. "Do those affect concentration?"

"Of course. The stronger the emotion, the greater the effect. Anger can make for unexpected bursts of power, often bordering with loss control over the flow of magicka, for example."

"Are you afraid of deep water?"

He didn't respond to that.

"Because, I was thinking about it, you know," she prolonged teasingly, "since you probably spent all your life in Solstheim...where the water is cold as fuck...you don't know how to swim. Am I right?"

He grumbled something.

She chuckled. "I thought so. I'm going to teach you."

This caused a reaction. He looked over his shoulder, puzzled look in his eye.

"It's a useful skill," she pursed her lips. "Also there's a chance we'll be paddling in water in the future, there are rivers and lakes around the world, grump. I already lost one Dragonborn because of you, I'm not going to lose another. Having you drown somewhere would be bloody stupid."

He frowned and turned away from her.

She mused on. "While we're at it, I also think you should eat more," she slipped her hands onto his stomach. He tensed. "You'd be less cold. Less easy to break like a twig. Need you to survive and eat the World-Eater."

"Why does everyone keep bothering me with my weight?" he growled. "My stomach is my business."

"Not when the world depends on it."

"The world does not depend on my _stomach_ ," he snapped at her. "Put your hands elsewhere, highness."

"Lower? Or higher? What would you prefer?" she teased.

As one of her hands slid lower down his abdomen, he drew a sharp breath. "Away from me," he grabbed it and stopped the movement.

"My, I didn't expect such a strong grip from you, grump." With a burst of savage need, she pressed closer to him and tried to free her hand from his grasp.

He looked at her with disdain, his lips curving down. He removed her hand and fought free from her hold with unexpected strength. As he stood up, he winced, both his leg and back protesting against the movement.

With a forced neutral expression, he limped out of the room with extreme care, shivering and cursing under his breath in an ancient language.

After the door closed, Bernadette heard a thud.

XXX

"Come on, you can barely move, you idiot!"

Zura sighed. "Berni, you're not helping."

Bernadette, again having a stare contest with Miraak, scoffed. "No, but I know what _will_ help." Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her pouch and pulled the binding stone out.

Miraak's lips twitched and his gaze hardened.

Zura's expression dropped. "This isn't going to-"

"Tell us what's wrong, grump."

Miraak pressed his lips together. The rune on his chest flared up, getting brighter with each moment he remained silent. Bernadette scowled. She could see him clenching his jaw as the rune's light intensified.

But the proud fucker wouldn't even blink. He kept staring at her, his eye burning right through her.

Fine. She wouldn't bend either.

His shoulders tensed. The light grew more intense. His hands, up to now resting in his lap, clenched the fabric of his tunic. But he didn't shift his gaze.

The rune was blazing.

Bernadette could smell burning skin.

At that moment Zura leapt forward and snatched the stone from Bernadette's hand. "ENOUGH!" she screamed. The rune died out at her order.

Miraak unclenched his fingers with a barely visible shiver.

Bernadette turned to Zura. "What THE HECK are you doing?! Give it back!"

Zura straightened her shoulders. "SILENCE!"

Bernadette blinked and backed away, surprised by the power of Zura's voice. Miraak kept watching them, his jaw still clenched.

"Stop acting like complete fools! BOTH of you!" Trembling with anger, Zura huffed to release some. "If not for the sake of the world, then for the sake of my sanity, get your damn shit together. You're both old and intelligent enough to see the important things, so focus on them. You," she pointed at Miraak and put the binding stone away, "stop being so unbearably proud. Look at your life. What has your pride wrought? Hm? Get your bearings together and let me help you, damn it!"

Bernadette, up to now staring at Zura in disbelief, snickered as Miraak lowered his gaze.

"Oh, don't you snicker at me, darling!" Zura, still riled up, turned to Bernadette. "Out! Out of the damned room! I'm going to have words with you later, hopefully after you've come back to your senses. What has gotten into you? Torture? Might I remind you how you hated those that bullied _you_? Hm? I thought you wanted to get back to Mara! The goddess of love and _compassion_ ," she breathed out.

Bernadette's jaw dropped. She never thought...torture? But Zura was right, wasn't she? "I...I…"

"Out," Zura pointed to the door, but her voice turned gentle now. "I'll come and we'll talk about it, darling. Just let me fix this mess first."

Without a word, Bernadette got up and left.

XXX

Once the door closed behind Bernadette, Zura sat on the bed next to Miraak.

"Where does it hurt?"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look," Zura frowned, "you can either sit here, hurting, or you can tell me and the pain can go away. And since I'm the biggest fool of all three of us, I'm going to sit here with you until you feel better." She reached her hand out. Miraak flinched away. A wince, along with a faint moan of pain, escaped his self-control.

"Do you trust me?" she pulled the hand away and rested both in her lap.

He looked back to her. They kept looking at each other for a while. Zura could see his fingers fidgeting. His eyes darted to the binding stone, left alone at a night table.

"I do."

"Let me help. Please."

His lips curved and his gaze grew distant for a second. Then it focused back to her. "My back is broken. If it gets blocked, it hurts."

"I can help with that," she huffed. "It was the cold water, wasn't it?"

He didn't respond. The corners of his mouth went down a bit.

"Come on. Take the tunic off."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but started to undress.

Zura's lips twitched in a slight smile. "How else am I supposed to have a look at your back, Miraak? I can't do that with all that fabric in my way. Also, take this, put it on the...the rune," she reached into her pack and pulled a small vessel out. "Bernadette made it, but it works. It will soothe the burns."

Slowly pulling the shirt over his head, he commented: "I can take care of it myself, once the spasms stop." He laid down carefully. Zura sat down next to him and started to examine his back. When she got an idea of what was wrong, she started to put it back to normal.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he winced.

"My granny is a physician. She and three of her sisters. I used to go to the Waterfront with them, look after the people. Before I decided to become a bard." She scoffed. "By Dibella, what did you do? This is absolutely horrible…"

"A dragon dropped me from the sky and I hit the ground," he growled, his voice darkening.

Zura gulped.

The room grew squiet for a time.

"Miraak," she spoke softly after he stopped wincing under her touch, "could you do me a favour? I know Berni annoys you to no end. But...could you please try to hold it back? She's in a bad place, not unlike you. She needs time to get back. You do too, I know. But out of the two of you, I trust _you_ more to stay in control in the heat of the moment. Could you do that for me?"

He grumbled something she didn't quite catch. But from the tone of it, she decided it was an affirmation.

"Thank you kindly. I promise to do something about Berni's lashing out. And I'm keeping the stone with me. Sounds good?"

XXX

After some searching, Zura found Bernadette hiding in the cargo hold. The Breton was sitting among crates, all hunched, staring at the prayer beads in her hands.

Zura sighed. She sat down next to Bernadette and leaned against her back.

Bernadette didn't react to Zura's presence in any way. After a time of sitting in silence, Zura began to purr, almost like a cat. The purr then slowly changed into a hum, the hum into a tune.

It was a lullaby. One often sung by the highlanders of Chorrol. She hoped it would ease Bernadette's mind, remind her of home and happier times.

It did. As the little bard sang, Bernadette relaxed, closing her eyes and letting her hands rest in her lap.

When the song ended, Bernadette sighed. "What have I become, Zura?" She sounded...broken. Her voice frayed at the seams and the words hardly found their way out of her mouth, barely whispered.

"A troubled person, dear."

"I don't want to be...this," Bernadette breathed out softly. "But I don't...how did it happen?"

Zura shifted a bit to hug Bernadette from behind. "We got entwined into big scary things. Do you remember the story of Mardoi? She was a beautiful, gentle spirit, smiling, dancing with children, weaving flowers and bringing succour to those who needed her. But one day orcish marauders found their way to her woodland home. Mardoi saw how they burnt the forest, killed the people, tormented the very earth beneath their feet. So she took on the form of a great black bear."

Zura tapped her fingers on Bernadette's thigh. "The bear roared and the marauders scattered. The bear charged, clawed, fought so hard, and the marauders fled. But when Mardoi shifted back, she was no longer the same. There was a wound on her stomach, ever bleeding, dripping. She took time to recover, and it closed, leaving a scar. But then the marauders came back, since there was no longer a great black bear standing watch over the forest. So Mardoi took the form again. She fought. The marauders hit her thick hide again and again, but to no avail. The great black bear ripped them to shreds," Zura's voice gained a sinister tone.

"Mardoi returned home, bleeding from many, many wounds. The people cared for her, helped her heal. But deep, deep scars remained on her skin and her soul. She no longer could forget the blood and screams, haunting her dreams. Her songs saddened.

The third year the marauders came again, this time with a group of warlocks. Mardoi took the form of the great black bear once more. The great black bear responded with ferocity equal to that of the daedra worshipping warlocks. It fought, it killed, it revelled in the suffering it wrought. It also suffered many hits. But its hide was now so thickened by the previous beatings, the bear did not even notice. It laughed and it took more lives than there were trees in the wood.

When Mardoi shifted out of the form, her light was gone, trapped under a twisted grin and bloodied claws. The denizens of the wood begged their spirit to reconsider, to take the form of the great black bear no more. To keep her soul, to find another way. And she replied - but who will protect you? I have taken the darkness in so you don't have to suffer from it," Zura let her voice fade.

"The next time she took on the form, the next time the great black bear suffered wounds, it merely laughed. It was laughter to shake the very heavens. The marauders fled, only to be impaled by dark, thorny vines sprouting from the dirt beneath their feet. Their blood seeped into the ground, their bones scattered among the darkened leaves. This time...this time the great black bear didn't want to shift back. Why would it? Its hardened hide would protect it from anything. Whoever beat it, got beaten back. Whoever questioned the bear, ended under the blackened roots of demonic trees. Soon there was nothing left but twisted trees and the bear, roaming the woods eternally."

Bernadette was silent for a while, letting the story fade out on its own.

"How do I keep the bear out?" she mumbled after some time.

"Find another way, don't take the darkness in. See, she could ask the trees to close the way. She could ask the wind to conceal the people and their homes. She could ask woodland wisps to confuse the marauders and lead them away. But she chose to take the form of the great black bear."

"But I can't see the way…I...I just...it's just there. I get angry and...and I...and I burst out. Like the Red Mountain."

Zura rested her head on Bernadette's shoulder. "Do you remember the feeling you have when you look at someone who needs your help and you give it?"

Bernadette nodded.

"Keep to that. That's a good start. But don't chase it endlessly, you can't just give out every piece of yourself." Zura kissed her hair. "Maybe you could go back to doing things you enjoy doing? It's been ages since you mixed a potion. Drew a picture. Looked at something interesting and studied it. Marvelled at the stars"

Bernadette's lips twitched in a smile. "I could do that." Then her expression dropped. "No, I couldn't. We don't have time. We need to do something about the dragon invasion, and possibly the Civil War. I can't just spend a day or more at an alchemy table. Or diving through a tomb."

"Aren't we going into a tomb?"

"Yea…"

"Besides...you could pick flowers! Or sing with me," Zura grinned.

Bernadette couldn't suppress a chuckle. "You know I have a terrible singing voice."

"Well, then, why not study the ancient mystery that's _literally_ walking by your side, hm? You could do that while moving to the next destination."

"Miraak?"

"Is there any other friendly Dragon Priest around?"

"He's not particularly friendly," Bernadette scoffed.

Zura ruffled her hair and purred. "Not to you, perhaps, not yet. He can be surprisingly warm, darling."

"Everyone likes _you_ , though. I don't know how you do it."

"I'm just that wonderful," Zura grinned. "Look, he has so many interesting things to say, especially for someone like you. Or your aunt. He actually _likes_ to talk. No wonder, after spending so much time alone among books."

"He doesn't talk to _me_ , though."

"Maybe you could try to be little nicer?" Zura hummed as she started playing with Bernadette's hair.

Bernadette let out a heavy sigh. "That's the problem, Zura. I don't know what the bloody Oblivion am I doing when I'm around him."

"Why would that be?" Zura mused, unbraiding Bernadette's hair riddled with salt. "Tsk. Dear, you need a bath."

"I don't...I don't know." Bernadette murmured and hugged her knees. "To be honest...I'm insanely curious. I'd like to ask a thousand things! But...but he's driving me crazy! So damn much! He just waltzes in somewhere and utters some stupid thing and I'm all riled up, just like that! He's doing it on purpose, you saw it. He's laughing at me, having royal fun watching me get flustered!" she huffed out. "And...and there is the matter...I still can't...I just can't let go that he killed Godric."

"I don't think he did."

"Why?"

"What purpose would it serve?"

"I don't know. But what...who else would-"

"Dear, Godric went to a plane of _Oblivion_ on his own, armed only with his skills. There's bound to be scores of things capable of killing someone as unprepared as he was. Maybe we should ask Miraak. That could ease your mind."

"Would he answer?" Bernadette scowled.

"If we ask politely."

Both of them fell silent.

"Dear," Zura broke the silence after some time, "do you think you could go and apologize to him?"

Bernadette tried to look at Zura over her shoulder.

"You know. For the stone. And whatever it was that made him leave the cabin and then break down in pain."

Bernadette turned bright red and looked away. Briskly.

Zura clicked her tongue. "Oh my. That must have been something." She grinned. "Did you try to kiss him?"

"What? No!" Bernadette answered a bit too quickly. Then her shoulders slumped. "I...it was worse. I was...really invasive."

"Hm. A piece of advice, dear, so we can avoid that whole 'and if he kills me, so be it' scenario. One thing I learnt - don't force this man to anything. The dead dragons around his temple proved as much."

Bernadette grumbled. "Alright. I'll go and...apologize."

Zura kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, Berni. I really don't want you to die. I was awfully afraid that I'd have to jump in between you two one day. A terribly stupid thing to do."

XXX

An echo of a scream. Far, far in the distance. Quiet steps, warm presence nearing him. Warm, known, beloved.

A skeletal hand touching his cheek.

"Shh. Come to me, love…"

His eyes snapped open and darted around. What he saw was a small cabin in the belly of a ship, lit by dancing lights he had summoned to keep the darkness at bay. And to keep the room warm. He must have been drowsing.

He breathed out in relief and closed his eyes again.

Then he heard whispering from the door.

"...'s asleep."

"No, I heard something."

He sighed softly. Right now he didn't want to interact with anybody. Maybe if he pretended to be sleeping…

No.

"I'm awake," he called out, his voice still a bit blurred by sleep.

"See?" Zura commented out loud. "Go on. I think I'll take a stroll on the top deck. Maybe bring some dinner?"

He heard how Zura pushed Bernadette inside the room and then shut the door behind her. For some time, Bernadette kept shuffling from one foot to the other, then she walked across the room and sat on the bed opposite where he was lying.

He could hear her shifting on the bed. But otherwise only awkward silence ensued.

"Miraak," she finally found her voice. He had to admit he was a bit surprised at the use of his name. "I wanted to…"

She sighed. "Could you look at me? Please?"

He considered it. Turning would involve pain in his back. But...she actually pleaded. Her voice even faltered a little. He grumbled and turned to his other side with extreme care.

Now he had a good view of her. She was biting her lip and tugging at strands of her hair.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I...ah…" She bit her lip again and turned away. Then he heard her curse under her breath and she turned back to him.

"Look...Miraak...I wanted to...I'm sorry!" she blurted out. "I'm sorry I did...that. And misused the stone." Her cheeks flushed and she hid her face in her hands.

Both his eyebrows went up.

"Apology accepted," he murmured after a moment of heavy silence. Then he closed his eyes again and did his best to ignore her. First the shocked silence, then several tries to say something, then the shuffling of her feet.

She didn't leave. Bugger.

Well, he didn't want to talk. He didn't want to sleep, either, but it was preferable to talking. Soon the consciousness slipped away from him.

XXX

Strangely enough the dreams ceased tormenting him. Maybe because the room he slept in was small and there were others with him. He felt safer.

Also incredibly bored.

Zura came to talk and take a look at his back from time to time, but she was writing her book most of the time.

After several days of just sleeping, staring into the ceiling, painting pictures with magical light and brooding, he has had enough. His back was in good enough state to get up, so he did. He slowly found his way on the top deck.

Oh, wow, it was cold. The freezing air hit him the moment he opened the trapdoor. He pressed his lips together and went up. No way he's going back to boredom.

When he straightened up, he rubbed his hands together. They lit with warm orange glow. Not fire, only the warmth. He hugged himself, sending the warmth through his whole body, and limped to a spot from which he could watch the stars hidden from others.

Someone else evidently had the same idea. With a frown he realized that someone was sitting in the spot he had chosen. Miraak decided to ignore the other person and sat down, still hugging himself.

After some searching he found the Wolven star.

He sighed, sorrow filling his soul. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around himself and reached his hands up to the star, as if he was offering something. In his native tongue, he began murmuring a prayer.

"Wolf-Mother, mother of all, light in our hearts..." He swallowed, letting the known words fade away before finishing the prayer. It didn't feel…right.

Would the goddess hear him? He had no shrine. No token. Was she even present, after all that time?

"Mother? Are you there? I know I have neglected you...I know I have failed you...failed everyone. Can you forgive me? I...I am lost, Mother. Lost and alone, drowning in darkness, and I don't know what to do." The words were coming with difficulty, he felt his throat tightening. The loneliness of Apocrypha began to spread through him, making him shiver and hunch down as if something heavy lay on his shoulders.

"Mother, please, lead me home, embrace me again," he whispered in a shaking voice. He pulled his arms back, crossing them over his chest as if to protect his heart. He breathed out and hung his head, almost curling into himself.

Suddenly, someone put a cloak over his shoulders. His head snapped up.

Bernadette, being the other person hiding in this particular spot, smiled shyly at him and adjusted her heavy cloak around his shoulders. She did so with surprising gentleness.

The cloak still held her warmth, for which Miraak was grateful.

Without a word, she sat near him, though facing away. He heard soft sounds of wood sliding against wood.

He looked back at the sky. Its endless span, filled with dancing lights and glistening stars, made him feel even more abandoned.

He shivered. He didn't want to be alone. It reminded him of Apocrypha too much.

Bernadette began to murmur words under her breath.

A strange desire, similar to what he felt when she first began to hound him, spread through his chest. He shifted, getting closer to her, and then he leaned his back against hers. She stopped murmuring and he felt how she looked over her shoulder.

She hummed, turning back to her hands. They both looked up to the stars.

The heavy feeling ceased after some time, as did Bernadette's mumbling. When Miraak's gaze next found the Wolven star, he felt a wisp of disembodied warmth, a kiss, on his cheek.

He breathed out in disbelief and relief, his lips twitching in a hint of a smile. He blinked several times to hush them away, but some tears still went down his cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

Miraak was standing at the front of the ship. It moved at the speed of a glacier, since the way led through iceberg fields.

If only the ship had the power of a glacier as well. Then it would push the icebergs aside.

The sun, glistening on the surface of the floating icy giants reminded him of the Mortrag Glacier. He wasn't sure whether he enjoyed the view or not, though. The glacier was bound to the years he spent imprisoned at Saering's Watch. But it was pretty, in its own way, he had to admit that.

He shuddered and pulled Bernadette's cloak closer to himself. Until she asks for it, he had no intention to give it back.

Conflicted about the icebergs, he turned his gaze to something decidedly pleasing. Namely the captain. He was a mighty fine man, a Nord in his prime, adorned by flowing golden beard and hair, both braided in what he was told was the traditional way.

Miraak had a soft spot for beards.

He scoffed at himself. This was annoying. All bodily needs left him after some time in Apocrypha, and, honestly, if not for the constant gnawing of hunger and scraping of thirst, he would have liked it to stay that way.

But as his body healed and returned to normal, all circumstances linked with it did too. He didn't mind hunger and thirst. Sleep, well, that was complicated. He found out he loved to sleep, but only if no nightmares haunted him. And, more often than not, they did. Then there was this stupidity, awakened by Bernadette's careless touches, concerning noticing attractive people and all things associated.

It was gnawing at his self-control.

He grumbled a curse and leaned against the railing. He had nothing better to do, anyway, so why not admire a little...since the scratching and wanting at the back of his head wouldn't stop.

Oh no.

That's why. Bernadette noticed him staring and was making her way to him. "Wolf-Mother preserve me," he sighed.

The Breton found a place close to him and leaned against the railing as well. She took a long look at the captain, carefully leading the ship among the crackling ice giants. She clicked her tongue and then turned to Miraak with a grin.

"You got refined taste, grump."

Ah. So it was back to nicknames. "Have you expected any less, highness?"

She snorted. "Don't you have an awfully high opinion of yourself. Actually, I expected you wouldn't be interested in anything like that. With you being hundreds and hundreds of years old and everything…"

"Doesn't seem that way," he grouched.

"So...are you into guys?"

"Obviously."

"What about ladies?"

He turned his head to look at her. "And this interrogation is supposed to lead to…?"

"I'm curious."

"So you need to ask about these exact preferences. Hm," he raised his eyebrow at her. Then he looked her up and down thoroughly, making her blush. He stopped and held her gaze for a bit, tilting his head in contemplation. Finally he turned away, back to the captain. "Yes, I favour ladies as well."

She hooked her thumbs to her belt and shifted her weight a bit. Miraak allowed himself a small smirk. It was too easy. He only regretted she stood on his blind side, so he couldn't watch her expression on the periphery of his vision.

But he felt more flustered fidgeting. He let his smirk widen.

"What about yourself, highness?" he asked without even looking at her.

"I keep to the men," she answered. Rather quickly.

He chuckled. "Why initiate such a discussion when you are uneasy with it?"

She gulped. What was it this time? He'd love to know and have more ammunition against her.

"Eh...I don't really know?" she squeezed out.

He shook his head in disbelief.

She tapped her fingers around the railing. "Actually...I've...I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Oh?" he turned to her.

"Did you kill Godric?"

"That little Dragonborn boy of yours?" his expression darkened. He did not remember him with fondness, no.

She nodded.

"No."

She breathed out.

"But I planned to."

She snapped up, turning her gaze back to him. "What?!"

He frowned. "The two of you ruined my efforts. And hurt me considerably in the process," he growled at her, his voice getting dangerously low and dark, "his soul would have gotten me out of Apocrypha."

"But kill a boy?" she snapped.

"Not kill. Rip his soul out and use it. I would do _anything_ to get out," he said calmly. There was a sharp, cold edge to his voice.

Bernadette backed away a bit, her lips quivering. "I was trying to help you! So you wouldn't have to do horrible things!"

"Help me?" he cut back. "Help me? No, highness, you were not." He closed in on her, his gaze hardening to ice. "You were making empty promises, hounding me, wearing me down, marking my location for Mora, promising, pleading, faking affection! You played me, highness, very cruelly. You lied and betrayed."

"I did not!"

" _I won't hurt you. I swear_ ," he imitated her speech. He was now very close to her, looming over her even though they were of similar height. "Do you remember that?"

She didn't respond. But her eyes told him she remembered.

"You swore...and what did you do right afterward? Gave the boy a weapon against me, which he utilised. You sent him. To break. My. Stones."

"I didn't _send_ him," she defended herself.

"You did nothing to stop him. Do you know how it feels to burn from within, as if you had molten metal in your veins? Do you know how it feels being broken bit by bit, how it feels losing your voice from the screaming, how it feels to suffocate on streams of your own blood?"

Bernadette shrank away from him. There was such freezing, unfeeling ferocity in his voice, it made her shake visibly.

"I do. Thanks to you. I've lived through worse. But. Do you know what felt worse than all of it? The hope you offered and then shattered. The feeling when I found you standing there, watching, as I crawled across the floor choking on my own blood. I…" his voice began to break, "I actually believed you. You were the first soul to talk to me in...you were... I was fond of you, your presence brought relief. And then... What a fool I was, right?" he chuckled. It was a completely hollow, broken sound, devoid of any joy. He hung his head, all menace gone from his posture.

"And now I'm here, lost, homeless, a slave to another yet again." He took the cloak off his shoulders and put it on the railing. "Here's your cloak, highness." With that he turned away, away from her, back to the sea.

She grabbed the cloak and pressed it to her chest. "Miraak…"

"I tire of the journey," he breathed out. He raised his arms, spreading them wide. As he did, the icebergs began to move, creaking, almost roaring with deep icy sounds, making way for the ship. Water flooded in the newly cleared space violently. Everyone, _everyone_ ran to the deck, watching in disbelief. With a swift motion of Miraak's arm a gust of wind filled the sails, sending the ship flying through the opened pathway like an arrow.

XXX

Dawnstar, finally. Miraak looked around and found nothing interesting. He was slowly growing used to the disappointment. It would seem that these "Nords" didn't much stand up to their ancestors. Crumbling dirty villages and smelling crowded cities with poorly planned architecture. Where, oh where, was the majesty of the temples he was used to? The neatly, cleverly organised settlements with solid round homes?

At least they had a bath house here, though a rather pathetic one. When Zura ushered their small group to visit it, he didn't protest.

XXX

"So no one wants to rent their boat?" Zura hugged herself.

"No," Bernadette growled. "We'll have to go through the snow plains on our own."

"Great. We should have gone with the horses."

Miraak, listening in, shuddered. He, for one, was glad there were no horses around. But the women were not. As they set out from Dawnstar, Zura kept complaining and nipping at Bernadette.

After an hour or so of constant buzz of their voices, Miraak stopped grinding his teeth. He hopped into the air and as he did, he made an upwards motion with one hand, as if he was lifting something.

Zura and Bernadette both yelped when their feet rose from the ground. Miraak flew past them, clenching his fingers. Both women followed suit, like ribbons being pulled by the wind.

Gliding across the snow, feeling the wind in his hair, breathing the crisp air of early spring...Miraak's mood improved radically. He smiled and darted forward.

When the women behind him screamed, startled by the sudden burst of speed, he chuckled.

XXX

"So….you're not even tired?" Bernadette, looking a bit green and extremely ruffled, asked. She was sitting by the fire they had started for the night.

"A bit," he smiled. "I could do with a full night's sleep. Though I could go on, if needed," he arched an eyebrow. "You could have a nice nap while flying."

"Flying at that speed?" Zura bristled. "No! No, thank you very much, I'll sleep in a bedroll on the cold ground among the rocks." She opened one of their bags. "And have something to eat."

"You want to eat after that...that wind ride?" Bernadette wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, darling, I'm hungry."

"Well, I'm not cooking."

Zura frowned. "Come on, you know I can't do it. We didn't have anything decent to eat for the whole day. And for the whole stupid ship trip."

"Take it up with him," Bernadette pointed her thumb at Miraak.

Miraak, still smiling, got up and made his way to Zura. "I think I can help you out, Zura. Let's have a look at what's in stock…" he sat down next to her. Luckily they found a good hiding spot among a pile of rocks and managed to create a mostly covered refuge, so after they cleared it out, there was no snow remaining in the area.

They rummaged through their supplies together.

"This?"

"No. Those nuts, however, I could use."

"Okay. Here, take them. What about this?"

"Yes, that'll do. Oh, what's this?"

"Gourds. Strangely enough, they grow through the whole year. Only in Riften though. You could like it. It's a vegetable."

"Give it here." He sniffed the gourd and examined it carefully.

"Haven't you ever seen a gourd before, grump?" Bernadette, her interest piqued by this interaction, wanted to know.

"No. Nothing like that grew on Solstheim."

"You spent your whole life there?"

"This is the first time I left. Could you hand me that? No, the thing you held before. That, yes, thank you. What is it?"

"A potato. Here, take some more, I think you might like them too."

Bernadette smiled a little. "Aaaw. Little Miraak is on his first trip."

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking for ridicule, but found none, only good mood and teasing glint. "Yes." He began to prepare the food, examining new ingredients, cleaning them and chopping them to pieces.

"Are we actually letting him cook? A Dragon priest?" Bernadette wondered after some time.

"He's good at it," Zura noted. "He knows how to eat bark."

"Amusing," he frowned at them both. "True, most priests in my time didn't know how to cook. I do."

"Why?"

"It's a useful skill," he arched an eyebrow at Bernadette.

"I'm just wondering," she leaned forward, "how come that someone raised in the highest circles of a temple, which, for the Dragon Cult, is an equivalent of nowadays castle, has such mundane skills. Weren't there people to do it for you?"

He stopped cutting, smile fading from his lips. "There were."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Maybe I don't want to answer it," he resumed his work.

"Please."

He frowned at her.

"You can ask me whatever you want in return."

"And what makes you think I want to ask anything?"

Bernadette shrugged.

They fell silent, but it was clear that something was bugging him, he was frowning and his movements grew ever more absent-minded.

"You think I've been born into the priesthood?" he suddenly cut in.

"Well, how else would you become a priest? I studied the Cult, you know, and I heard the legend about you. A priest high in the order rebelled for more power-"

"I did NOT!" he snapped. "You studied the Cult? I lived it! You know dragon's shit about the Cult. The reason I rebelled was not….NOT… for more power," he hissed

"Why did you do it?" Zura asked in a soft voice.

He turned to her, his anger fading a little. He sighed. "Because we were slaves. Did we not deserve our freedom?" He set the knife aside and placed a small cooking pot over the fire. He put a pile of snow inside and began to melt it with weak fire magic.

"Do you know what was happening casually? If the master, _the priest_ , was not a kind person, the slaves, we, were treated like cattle. Worse than cattle. Just enough food to last the winter. Who didn't work hard enough, was marked as tribute sooner or later. Or got sent to the...to the mines." His hands, placed on the pot quivered. The orange energy flared, then calmed down again. "No respect for the little people, for the slaves. No respect for life. The families got separated, just like that, at some lord's whim. The slightest mistake? You got punished. Who whips a child so much it almost bleeds out? For some spilled wine? The warriors and the gifted were not treated this harsh. Those going to _Sovngarde,_ " he spat.

His shoulders slumped. He didn't look at them, he kept his eyes glued to the pot, but he continued in a forlorn tone. "There were more horrors. You asked who _they_ were. On the ship. They are those whose deaths I witnessed. Whose screams I hear in my sleep. The dragons...they...they demanded tribute. When a settlement didn't have enough, it gave people."

Zura and Bernadette huddled closer together and linked arms. They had some idea of what was coming and neither of them liked it. But they wanted to hear it nonetheless.

"They...ate the people. In front of everyone. There was a gathering, you know? All priests and their housecarls, along with the most esteemed warlords. The beasts tore their limbs, one by one. Then cracked the rib cages like clams and feasted on them. All through it, the poor souls screamed, screamed, screamed." He looked up and turned around to take the ingredients and put them in the pot. Bernadette and Zura could see how his eyes glistened.

"No one did anything to stop it. No one. Why? The families of those gathered there never suffered such fate. Of course, their kind died in unnecessary fights with the elves. But that was good. Glorious. Honourable. But, even though life was hard for them too, it never was a living nightmare. Did we deserve that? The little people? No. So I stood up for us." After the ingredients splashed into the boiling water, he hung his head. "And failed everyone in the end."

He fell silent, his head hung low.

"They wanted to use me to deal with Alduin. Hakon," his voice cracked a little, "and the rest. I chose otherwise." He chuckled, darkly. "Perhaps I should have become a tool to that sly old sorcerer. Things could have been different."

"Sly old sorcerer?" Bernadette was confused.

"Felldir the Old. The first of the Tongues, who, given the ability to shout by Kyne herself, fought the Dragon War. Didn't you ever read about it?" Zura leaned to her.

Miraak scoffed. "The Tongues? The first? Given by Kyne? Ha! Lies, all lies."

"How did it happen, then?" Bernadette, leaning forward with curiosity, wanted to know.

"Well, I didn't see the rest of the Dragon War, as you call it," he ran his hand through his hair, "I...Mora swept me away to Apocrypha just before Vahlok could finish his job. These," he nodded towards the golden blades, lying by Bernadette's bedroll, "were meant specifically for me." Looking at the blades, his hand crept up to his stomach absentmindedly. "My warlords and priesthood managed to get most of our people to safety, to distant reaches of the mainland. Skyrim. But you asked about Felldir, did you not?" he huffed. "The most esteemed warlords and their champions knew how to use the Thu'um. Fully pledged priests did as well. The dragons, _the great ones_ , taught their little pets. Not Sister Hawk. She may have interfered, but it certainly wasn't as divine as your story says. It's probably what that ferret fed to the skalds. He must have built his armies and defenses and gathered as many masters of the Voice as he could while the bulk of the dragon army marched through Solstheim. Then he made his stand, after my people bled and after I thinned the dragon ranks a bit."

He stirred the pot carefully and added a pinch of something.

"Why didn't other gods interfere?"

"I have no answer for that," he folded his arms on his chest.

"Aren't you a priest?"

"I am. However, gods are never very clear about their intentions. That's why there is a whole section of people in most societies that tries to interpret the visions, signs and dreams."

"Maybe they did interfere," Zura mused, "but you didn't realize it at the moment."

Miraak scratched his stubble, dark mood receding as he tried to catch some particular memory. "Maybe you are right. When we escaped from Saering's Watch, something happened..."

XXX

Bernadette and Miraak sat in silence, both staring into the distance. Zura was already asleep, huddled under her blankets.

Bernadette put down the bowl she has been holding for some time. " Thanks for the vegetable stew, it was really good, grump," she said softly, not wanting to disturb Zura.

Miraak turned to her. "I didn't do it for you. And of course it was good. I'm good at cooking, highness. Growing up in a kitchen has its ups."

"Aren't you getting a tad too proud again," Bernadette teased. "You made food for yourself and Zura, and yet, mysteriously, there was enough of it for me to get a full belly as well," she gave a sly grin. Miraak tilted his head and the corners of his lips curled a tiny bit upward.

"Look, I wanted to…" She scratched her head. "Ah...I wanted to...it must have been hard, to talk about it all. I'm sorry. I won't tease you about this again."

He kept looking at her for a while. Then the wispy smile on his lips widened a bit into a more recognisable one. "I appreciate it, highness."

"Doesn't mean I won't tease you about other things," she smirked.

"Noted."

Bernadette breathed out, her shoulders relaxing a little. She reached under her shirt and pulled her prayer beads out. She looked back to Miraak. "I'm going to pray...wanna join me?"

"I would like that."

XXX

"According to the map, this ruin should be Ustengrav," Zura looked up from the huge map she was holding.

"Good, great," Bernadette groaned. "I don't think I could take another wind ride."

"So….are we going in?"

Bernadette looked around. "If you happened to notice where has Miraak ran off to, yea."

"What?!" Zura almost jumped.

"I don't see him anywhere."

"Dibella's tits!" Zura scanned their surroundings frantically, pulling at her hair. "How could we lose a man? And a tall one like that?!"

"Everyone's tall for you, Zura. Come on, let's look around. Maybe he thought the Morthal Swamp was pretty."

XXX

"Hey, I have an idea."

"Hm?"

"I think if we follow the trail of dead spiders, we'll find Miraak."

XXX

Both of them stopped walking suddenly.

"Can you believe that?" Bernadette shook her head and put her hands on her hips.

"Frankly, I can," Zura smiled. They found Miraak not that far from the edge of the swamp, all excited about a patch of blooming deathbell. These flowers bloomed whenever they felt like it and cared not for seasons.

Miraak had an astonished smile on his lips and was examining the plant thoroughly. He held several plucked leaves and blooms in his hand.

"Hey! Grump!" Bernadette called out.

He snapped up, startled by her voice.

Bernadette motioned for him to come over. "We have work to do! The Horn, remember?"

He looked at the patch of deathbloom wistfully. "But-"

"I know all about this fucking plant. I'll tell you what I know and you can poison yourself on the bloom all you want _after_ we get the Horn. Deal?"

XXX

"I can't tell you anything about this place. It was built after my time. We buried our dead into small round mounds, not vast underground halls like this. The vast halls were for the living."

"But you can translate the writing, right?"

Miraak sighed. "Right…"

XXX

"Wolf-Mother's fangs to your throat!" Miraak growled and hurled another wide scythe of burning golden light at the draugr assailing them. As it connected, he flipped his arms up and clenched his fingers.

The scythe exploded into a blazing nova of light.

Bernadette screamed and shut her eyes closed.

XXX

"Traps, traps, traps, always traps and stupid smelly undead Nords. Why can't there be a tomb that is still?"

"Maybe to keep it safe from plunderers?" Miraak raised an eyebrow at Bernadette. She huffed and frowned at him.

"I thought that defiling the dead was unholy."

"It is. Despicable."

"Then why don't dead ancient Nords sleep peacefully? Hm? There must be something keeping them that way. I think I read somewhere that there was some type of magic, unknown to scholars, that had something to do with life force and the Dragon Priests."

"And...why are you telling me and looking at me like that?" Miraak tilted his head.

"You're a Dragon Priest. You must know the magic."

He shook his head.

Bernadette's frown grew even fiercer.

"I didn't have that much time to spend in the restricted section of the library in my temple," he said calmly, folding his arms on his chest.

"You're talking shit. You spent enough time as a priest. Even if not as a Dragon Priest, well, you had the knowledge, no? And you sat in Divines damned Apocrypha for four eras!"

"Maybe I am talking shit," his gaze hardened a little, "maybe I am not. Whatever the case, I am _not_ imparting the darkest, vilest, most revolting arts I have encountered upon anyone. Ever."

"Hey, there's a dragon wall down there," Zura disrupted. "Do you want to have a look?"

Bernadette's scowl disappeared like mist in sunlight. "Where, where?"

XXX

"So...these stupid stones light up when Miraak, and only Miraak, stands by them?"

"Seems like it."

"Damn!" Bernadette sat on one of the stones. "How are we going to get through, then? The gates close so fast that not even flying speed is enough."

Miraak rubbed his chin. "This was a tomb of someone trained in the Thu'um, you said?"

"Supposedly."

"Then let's use the Thu'um," he cracked his knuckles. "If you could be so kind and remove your behind from the stone, highness?"

She scoffed. But obeyed.

"Thank you," he shot a slightly amused look at her and positioned himself next to the stone. It lit with red light and the first gate opened.

"WULD NAH KEST!"

XXX

"Ow."

"That little poke hurt?"

Miraak frowned, pressing his lips together. Zura gave him a stern look and raised her eyebrow. He grumbled something and made an annoyed motion with his hand.

"Yes, it hurts. Not in a crippling way. My back always hurts after this particular shout. Can we continue?"

XXX

"WHAT THE BLOODY OBLIVION?!"

Miraak flinched. Bernadette's shriek caught him by surprise, since he was marvelling at the statues that rose from the water along the sides of the tomb. _That_ was something to see, indeed. And then she screeched worse than mating cats.

"What is it?" he made his way to Bernadette and Zura, staring at a piece of paper with their expressions changing rather rapidly.

Bernadette flailed the paper around wildly. "Some...some...some fucking stupid idiot-"

Miraak rolled his eyes and snatched the paper from her. "Dragonborn. I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. A friend." He raised an eyebrow. "How enigmatic. Where's Riverwood?" he turned to Zura, since Bernadette still fumed with anger and kept muttering under her breath. Miraak was _not_ curious to hear what it was.

"Far south," Zura hugged herself. "Where the Jeralls begin to rise up. And then there's the border further south."

Miraak folded the note and looked at the paper. "Looks weathered. This must have been here for some time."

"Well, the Greybeards called for the Dragonborn before we went to get you...that was last summer, late in the summer. If the 'friend' heard it, they probably hurried here to steal the Horn. I only wonder how did they get in-"

A loud sound of stone scraping against stone interrupted her.

"OF COURSE! A secret passage! How clever! So we didn't have to go through all those bloody undead and the fucking wizards at all. Great! Superb!" Bernadette started a rant, throwing her arms in the direction a secret passage she has just opened.

Miraak and Zura exchanged a look.

XXX

Bernadette was strangely silent. Once they made camp and she cooked dinner, she sat next to one of the standing stones in the vicinity of the tomb, hugged herself and her gaze got lost in the distance.

After they ate and washed the dishes, Zura and Miraak both sat down with Bernadette. Zura leaned on her and started undoing her braided updo, Miraak simply sat close for warmth.

"What is it, darling?" Zura asked softly after some time. "What's on your mind?"

"I think I need to visit Octavian," she mumbled in response. "I need...I need some…"

Zura nodded. "We can do that. Solitude is not that far away afterall." She grinned. "Especially since Miraak can take us over the bay."

"That I can," he confirmed. "And I can provide fast transport to Riverwood afterwards."

"More flying?" Bernadette lifted her head. "Wouldn't you get tired?"

"It includes flying, but probably not in the way you're expecting," he smiled. Then he pulled out the flower he picked up earlier. "You promised to tell me about this. Care to uphold that promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she gave a wisp of a smile. "It's called deathbell and it's rather poisonous…"

As she talked, Miraak pulled a small notebook out of his satchel and began to write and draw into it.

XXX

"I don't feel comfortable flying among trees. Mind you, I actually _am_ half blind, even though I can use Sight with the white eye, and moving at great speed does not give me enough time to judge which is the best path."

"Good enough for me. I didn't want to fly anyway. Let's walk through the swamp, there should be a path on the edges of it, leading to Morthal. I also heard in Dawnstar that there was a dragon hunting in the vicinity of Morthal, so perhaps we could kill it. Then we can turn north and go to Solitude."

"Fine with me," Zura picked up her pack.

XXX

Fighting dragons became so much easier with Miraak by their side. Bernadette stuck to her crossbow, shooting explosives at the beast while he protected them both. Then he would trap the dragon on land, paralyzing it with powerful shocks.

Killing it was a piece of cake afterwards.

XXX

"What are you looking at?"

Miraak, shielding his eyes from the sun, tilted his head to try and see better. "I think I can see some ruins up there on the slope. It could be Bromjunaar. The sacred city, where the council of Dragon Priests would meet if needed. Morokei and Konahrik ruled from there…"

"I thought each priest had his own realm to rule," Bernadette entered the conversation.

"True. But Bromjunaar was the sacred city. The center of the whole realm, the kingdom of kingdoms. The realm was the biggest of all, and it was decided that two would govern it in unity. Konahrik and Morokei. Warlord and the Glorious one." He rubbed his chin. "I always wanted to see it…"

"Wait. The names have a meaning?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't all names have meaning? Of course our names too have one. They are built similarly to dragon names, but lacking one syllable. To show that we were lesser to the dragons."

"What does your name mean?" Bernadette wanted to know.

"Allegiance guide. You see, all priests trained in the Temple of Miraak, to be guided on the right path." He chuckled. "The irony of my name and my actions does not escape me, no. After the priests finished their training, they would disperse across the land. I ended up staying in Solstheim because there were settlements that needed a priest and Miraak considered me skilled enough to take up the role in one of them."

"Wait. Miraak considered you? I thought you were Miraak," Zura's forehead wrinkled.

"Oh. Sorry. The name is carried by the mask. You become what it represents when you gain the mask."

"So you weren't Miraak before?"

He shook his head.

"What was your name?" Bernadette asked with curiosity clear in her voice.

He opened his mouth to answer, but then he closed it, confused look in his eye. "I...I can't remember." He looked away, the corners of his lips curling down. "I...it's not important anymore. I have been Miraak for long enough. No other Miraak will come. It's my name now."

XXX

There was less and less snow with each day they spent on the road. Miraak soon forgot about the sacred city and the unease his name caused. Collecting rocks and plucking early blooms of spring kept him busy.

Zura and Bernadette couldn't but giggle. Miraak's collecting slowed them down considerably, but watching him carry a bouquet in his hands, smiling wide from ear to ear and excitement shining in his eye when he spotted another interesting plant or the right rock, that was something unbelievably beautiful.

He somehow looked like a young man. Unburdened by all the weight of his real age and pain he suffered, both of which dispersed with his happy smile.

XXX

"We could spend the night in Fort Snowhawk," Bernadette mused. "It should be held by the imperial forces, and it's just over that ridge. Standing watch over the swamp."

"Sounds nice," Zura smiled. "Warm fire and a bed."

Miraak didn't seem too thrilled by the idea. "I don't know," he looked around with suspicion. "I feel uneasy. Something's wrong."

"Come on, grump. That's just your attitude talking."

"No," he frowned, still scanning their surroundings. "I feel...something is off, something in the magicka around here. Something dark…"

Just as he finished saying that, a zombie in an imperial uniform jumped from a pile of snow and hurled itself at him.

Miraak yelped and blasted it with a lightning bolt. The energy of it jerked the zombie backwards. Before it could run at him again, he enveloped it in a flare of sunlight.

The zombie turned to ash with a dull groan.

"Now you believe me?" he shouted at Bernadette. She was just trying to deflect a blow at Zura with her shield.

"What, do you want to start with the 'I told you so?' Burn the things to Oblivion!"

"Must you always mention the plane?" he growled and blasted another monster. All of a sudden something extremely heavy smashed his skull on his blind side.

His vision went white. A moment later his head exploded with pain.

XXX

Miraak snapped to consciousness with a gasp. The water that went down his head and shoulders so suddenly was freezing. He groaned. His head felt like swimming in honey. And hurt considerably.

"Come on, you lout!" another splash of water hit him.

Now he realized in what uncomfortable position he woke up. Not fully kneeling, but still not standing either. His wrists were above his head, clad in iron shackles. Pangs of sharp pain kept shooting from his back, his bad leg started to get numb and his head kept pounding. There was some piece of dirty cloth stuffed in his mouth. Aside from his pants, he was naked. And damn cold, by the Wolf-Mother.

He looked up.

There was a male figure dressed in black robes standing not far from him. The man was holding an empty bucket and a disturbing grin shone from under his dark hood.

"Finally decided to join us, have you?" the man cackled. His voice was dry and rather old. "Good, good. I have some fun planned for you…"

The man shuffled away.

Miraak tried to look around a bit, fighting through the pain throbbing in his head and back.

He was in a small dark room, probably some dungeon. A walking skeleton guarded the door, moving around it, its bones cracking strangely with every movement. Some dead bodies lay on a table partially hidden in shadows, and a slender female figure, also dressed in black, tended to them.

To his left, imprisoned in a hanging cage, sat Zura. She was looking at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"Miraak," she rasped quietly, almost as if searching for assurance.

He had none to give.

The old necromancer shuffled back and bent down, levelling his face with Miraak's. The man was drooling slightly, his eyes glowing with almost feverish desire. He was holding a scalpel in one hand, a small dagger in the other.

He giggled. Miraak grimaced in disgust.

"Let's get the fun started. Hehehehehee, I'm so curious to hear you squeal," he grinned and cut Miraak's wrist, just under the shackle. Not too deep, so he wouldn't bleed out, but he felt the blood flow out and make its way down his arm.

"Oooooooh, he's a tough one, isn't he? Would you look at this, Mali? Just a little wince, a little wince and nothing more…" the necromancer made several quick cuts along the length of Miraak's forearm.

The female necromancer, tending to the corpses, didn't even turn around. "Just remember to keep the bodies in one piece."

"Yes, yes, I remember," the necromancer scowled. Then he took Miraak by the chin. "So what are we going to do with you?"

Miraak growled at him. He tried to reach for his magicka, but, as he suspected, the shackles were blocking him from reaching the source.

The necromancer clicked his tongue. "No-no-no-no-no, we can't have that." He let the tip of the dagger slide down Miraak's ribs, leaving a thin trail of blood. "Stubborn, are we? No, no, you will break…"

With that he curled his hand into a fist and hit Miraak to the stomach with surprising strength.

 **XXX**

 **Necromancers, damn. Never a good business, nope. I wonder, though, why are there always these evil types of necromancers? I've yet to see a necromancer that uses their knowledge of bodies and of death energy to help the dying die painlessly. Or one that fights their enemies with negative energies, using them to weaken the enemies for a time and fleeing during that safe window.**

 **It's always the evil people-cutting necromancers, and now I've joined the trope. But, really, the ones in the game are like that, and I just couldn't pass the wonderful altar they have in this particular fort, I'm that weak-willed.**

 **But hey, Miraak is starting to talk about things, about his feelings, and he was actually smiling. That's not bad :) ...if they get out of this in one piece, that is.**


	10. Chapter 10

The necromancer growled. He was starting to get frustrated with Miraak. He beat him, he cut him, he even pushed his back to the brink of breaking, and yet he got nothing more than winces and muffled groans.

He wanted screams!

Pain!

Agony!

Kneeling beside Miraak, listening in to his heavy breathing with some satisfaction, the necromancer touched the rune on his chest.

"Mali? Have you found something like a binding stone among their things?" he spat.

The female necromancer tossed the stone to him. His lips widened in a smile. He picked it up and stuffed it under Miraak's nose. "What about this thing? Will it make you scream?"

He activated the stone, causing the rune to flare up with searing light, burning Miraak's flesh. He bit into the cloth in his mouth and sent a dark look towards the necromancer. He survived dragonfire. Some binding rune was nothing in comparison.

"Back it, you old cackler," the other necromancer growled. "You're going to burn a hole into him. Boss is not gonna like that."

The necromancer growled and dropped the stone. The light of the rune died out, as did the pain it caused. The necromancer scowled at Miraak.

"Maybe I should turn to the cat?!" he spat into Miraak's face and stabbed the dagger into his thigh.

No. Not Zura. Not his girls.

Swallowing all pride, Miraak stopped fighting the cries of pain that threatened to go up his throat for the last hour. As the dagger went inside, he shrieked.

The necromancer smiled, all his bad mood washing away. "Was it worry for the cat? Or the PAIN?" he tore the dagger out and stabbed again not far from the initial wound. "How nicely he screams, such sweet, sweet sounds…" the necromancer licked his lips. "But I want to hear it better."

He reached for the cloth and pulled it out of Miraak's mouth.

Miraak grinned.

So he wanted to hear him scream?

"FUS RO DAH!"

A forcewave tore through the room along with his voice, smashing both necromancers against the walls and sending the corpse table flying.

"SAHROTAAR! KRUZIIKREL! RELONIKIV!" Miraak shouted as loud as he could. His voice rumbled through the air, making the walls of their prison and the ground beneath their feet shake.

"Kill that fucker!" the female necromancer got up on her feet.

Both necromancers raised their hands, gathering magicka.

"VEN GAAR NOS!" Miraak's voice summoned a whirlwind of howling winds, tearing through the prison, picking the necromancers from the ground and tossing them against the walls.

Heaving from pain and exhaustion, he tried to push against the shackles.

Hearing the commotion, more necromancers hurried up the stairs to the torture room.

One of them was nearing Zura, cowering in her cage.

No. They won't.

"MUL QAH DIIV!" His spiritual dragon appeared, potent energies wrapping around his weakened form and pouring power into him. Menacing horns rose from his head and his eyes lit up with golden glow.

Hitting the wall with a tail woven out of spiritual energy, Miraak pushed against the shackles. The stones crumbled a bit. The metal cracked.

With a defiant scream he pushed once again.

This time the shackles broke. No longer held by up his wrists, Miraak fell down. A rush of power came roaring through him, making him gasp. Magicka flooded through his body, invigorating him. Just in time. The cyclone died out.

Miraak straightened up, kneeling on the ground. There were six necromancers, already releasing their spells at him.

Whisking his dragon tail from side to side, he bared his teeth and summoned a ward.

XXX

Three shadows darted through the pale morning sky. Reaching Fort Snowhawk, they split with wild beating of wings.

Figures in dark robes hurried to the broken battlements.

The dragons swooped down.

"FO KRAH DIIN!" Sahrotaar roared as he flew over the wall. He showered the defenders with a curtain of freezing breath, leaving frozen statues in its wake.

Kruziikrel, seeing a cluster of necromancers gather on the main tower, flew closer. He beat his wings powerfully, creating repeated gusts of wind. With a victorious roar he watched as the puny mages fell to their death. He darted up to the sky, narrowly avoiding a volley of ice spikes.

Relonikiv joined the fray. "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A lot more necromancers kept pouring out of the fort. This must have been indeed a great nest of dark arts.

Sahrotaar circled around the fort and swooped down to grab some of the necromancers running along the battlements, shooting ice spikes at Relonikiv. His claws closed around several figures. He roared and ascended high up. Then he released his grip.

The dragon looked around. He had to find Miraak thuri.

XXX

Too occupied with Miraak, none of the necromancers noticed the commotion outside.

Something hit the wall of the prison with a loud thud.

And again.

The necromancers stopped hurling spells.

With a deafening sound of cracking stone a dragon head barreled through the wall. A huge bronze dragon broke through, just like that, and smashed one of the necromancers to a bloody pulp. Then he snapped with his mighty jaws, cutting terrified screeches of the old necromancer short.

Miraak blasted the other four with a forked chain lightning, crackling and sizzling. A small thunder rolled in afterwards.

The dragon released the necromancer. The body fell limp to the floor.

Zura pressed her back to the bars of her cage with a whimper.

The dragon's burning eyes found Miraak. "Hail, thuri."

Miraak breathed out. "Kruziikrel." He hopped to him on one leg and put his hand on the huge bronze snout. "Thank you for coming."

Zura released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Miraak turned to her and motioned his hand towards the cage. The lock cracked and the bars bent. The door opened with a soft creak.

Zura made her way out, trembling. She immediately went for Miraak and hugged him.

He winced, then put his arm around her shoulders. "It's going to be alright," he reassured her softly. He snapped his fingers. A small ball of healing light appeared into existence and began circling them both, leaving a trail of fading golden light in its wake.

When he stopped feeling like collapsing in the very next moment, he dismissed the light. "I need to get Bernadette."

Zura nodded and let him go. Miraak limped a bit aside, still more hopping on one leg than actually walking, and picked up the binding stone. He turned to Zura. She looked at the stone, then at him. He gave it to her without a word.

"Stay with her, Kruziikrel. Keep her safe," he turned to the dragon.

"Your will be done, thuri."

XXX

Breathing was so hard.

Why was she fighting for breath again? Everything hurt. The world was blurred, colours distorted, her body burning with pain.

She only wanted for the pain to end.

"That's it…" a voice, silken, soft, but strangely malicious, said from somewhere behind her. "Let it go. You've been fighting for too long, you deserve to rest…"

That voice...it was connected to the pain. She remembered as much. Whenever she heard it, new pain came. Was there ever anything else than the voice and the pain?

Maybe she should listen to it.

Her breathing became shallow. Her eyes stopped moving beneath the lids, ready to stay closed and still.

Someone hissed. The voice hushed the hiss, but she heard emotions in it. It sounded annoyed. A bit afraid.

Her curiosity go the best of her. She fought herself and forced the lungs to breathe in deeply for one more time. She wanted to know what it was, what scared the voice.

She realized she could hear muffled explosions.

Then a loud thud.

Another one.

She breathed out.

Another.

Straining, she breathed in again.

Stone hitting stone. Something roared fiercely. It sounded like words, spoken by a deep rumbling voice.

The hissing voice shrieked, then grew quiet.

Deafening sizzle cut through her ears. She winced, releasing her hard won breath.

Two voices argued, shouting over each other. She took another shaky breath. She was losing strength, but she wanted to know how this dispute will resolve. The other voice sounded familiar…

Earsplitting cacophony of various noises erupted around her. She couldn't hear the voices anymore. The sounds were tearing into her head, shredding it to pieces.

Cold grasp enveloped her. She felt as if someone was pulling at the very essence of her life, trying to force it to leave her body. She tried to resist, to defy the pull.

"NO!"

This she heard. She recalled hearing it before…

"TIID KLO UL!"

A pained huff.

Silence.

A weak thud as a body crumpled to the ground. Hasty steps, stumbling over themselves. She felt someone's warmth close to her, she heard their quickened breaths.

"Highness?" the familiar voice called out to her. As it did, warm hands untied her wrists and ankles. She forgot she was tied up.

Well, she knew how the story ended. She knew what was the voice afraid of. She could slip away now…

"No, no, no, no, please," the voice begged, cracking slightly. The hands touched her. She instinctively tensed, because before it was touching what brought pain.

This touch did not. This one was warm, soothing, washing the pain away.

"No. Bernadette." One of the hands caressed her cheek. "Don't die on me, Bernadette," the voice kept muttering. She could hear suppressed pain in it, something she knew well.

Her thoughts were cut short. As waves of soothing energy spread through her body, she lost consciousness.

XXX

"Can't you heal her? You can heal her, right? You can save her?" Zura, her arms wrapped around his waist so she wouldn't fall from Sahrotaar's back, sobbed.

Miraak, holding Bernadette in the saddle in front of him, breathed out in desperation. "I hope so. We just need to get to Solitude in time and find me some potions." Preferably some healing ones. His wounds were still bleeding through the quick bandaging Zura insisted upon. He got dizzier with every moment and his head pounded so horribly he almost felt like fainting himself. But he couldn't. Not now.

Sahrotaar, listening in, shook his head and quickened his flight.

XXX

When three dragons, flying as a unit, appeared in the skies above Solitude, everyone burst into panic.

Legionnaires stationed there barely had time to hurry to the battlements.

The dragons went straight for Castle Dour.

"Don't shoot!" a powerful voice bellowed as the dragons circled above the courtyard, looking for a place to land.

The soldiers, thrown off-balance by seeing riders on back of one of the dragons, lowered their weapons.

The two bronzes perched on towers around the courtyard. The black, carrying three figures, was just landing on the courtyard when general Tullius hurried out of the castle.

"What is going on?" he demanded sharply. But even he was silenced by the unexpected sight before him.

"Divines be with us," Legate Rikke, following a step behind, breathed out. "Is everyone seeing what I'm seeing?"

The general didn't answer. He grew pale and hurried towards the dragon, whose riders were carefully dismounting.

He recognised the broken figure resting limply in the dragon rider's arms.

XXX

"Miraak…" a mournful voice tore through his drowsiness. He rubbed his eyes and opened them.

Zura was standing next to him, all huddled into herself, her eyes wide with sorrow. He moved a bit aside, then motioned for her to sit next to him on the polstered thing the Imperials were calling a 'sofa.'

She sat as close to him as possible. He sighed and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

Both of them turned to the ghastly pale Bernadette, resting on a bed opposite of their sofa.

"Is she going to make it?" she whispered.

"I certainly hope so." He looked at Zura. She wasn't wounded, but he could see she was still shaken. "Let me have a look at you, too."

"No. Keep your energy for her." She turned to him. "And yourself. You're still bleeding...everywhere."

"I have to wait before I start working again. Too much magic could make her body give out just because it wouldn't be able to bear the energy." And his, too. Wolf-Mother, if he had to cast another complex healing spell... "I...I feel too weak to risk a healing spell on myself, too nauseous to drink another potion."

Zura nodded. After some time, she rested her head on his shoulder.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. His eyelids were too heavy, so he let them fall down again.

XXX

The light coming from Miraak's hands dimmed down, then disappeared completely. He pulled away with a sigh.

His head felt a little better, but he was, again, starting to get nausea from all the potions he drank. Well, at least his own wounds were healing. He rubbed his temples, then examined Bernadette.

She looked better. He managed to remove most of the lingering poisons and maledictions placed upon her, so now her body could actually heal itself. Maybe he could get some sleep…

Evidently not. The door creaked and someone stopped at the threshold.

Miraak got up and limped out of the room, closing the door behind him with care. Then he turned to the man. General Tullius.

"You're the dragonhunter pulled from Oblivion?" he went straight to business.

Miraak gave a little bow. "Miraak Wolf-brother."

"How is she?"

"Well enough."

The two men eyed each other for some time.

"You made a lot of ruckus. Flying into Solitude like that? The Thalmor are curious. Looking for you."

Miraak's eyebrows twitched. "Should I have chosen a less visible approach and risk Bernadette's life?"

Tullius sighed. "No."

"Where are you headed with this conversation, then?"

"I'm trying to keep them off of your tail. As far as they are concerned, the three of you left with the dragons. Be wary of the Thalmor, Wolf-brother."

Miraak nodded.

"I could also use your help, if what she wrote is true."

"Problems with dragons?"

"Who doesn't have problems with dragons these days?" Tullius frowned. "Yes. There are three of them, two moving too close to Solitude to my liking, destroying ships going this way, and one assaulting Dragon Bridge every now and then. Could you dispatch them?"

"Give me some time to sleep," Miraak nodded and rubbed his neck.

XXX

Bernadette woke up. She was lying in a comfortable bed, covered by warm blankets. The room was small, but cozy and filled with pleasant herbal smells.

She had no idea how she got there, though. Why her limbs felt so unbearably heavy, as if mountains lay upon them, why she kept shivering despite the fire warming the room up.

She looked around a bit and found Zura looking out of the window wistfully, chewing on something. "Zura, where are we?" she called out softly.

The Khajiit looked at her. "Bright moons!" she beamed. She hurried to pull a seat next to the bed.

While she was doing that, Bernadette looked around a bit more. To her disappointment, she found Miraak missing.

"We're in one of Solitude's worse districts, in a little apartment provided by a friend of general Tullius'," Zura said and reached for a mug, standing on a night table. "Here, Miraak said you should drink this."

"How did we get here? The last thing I remember is the road...and snow…" She took the mug and smelled its contents. Herbal tea. She took a sip. "Where's Miraak?"

"The general asked him to hunt some dragons. He went to do that," Zura twisted her toes, her lips curling in displeasure. Remains of what she had been chewing could be seen on her teeth, something green and dried. "I still think he should have stayed and allow himself to heal, but nobody ever listens to me. As for how we got here...Miraak called three dragons, wrecked the fort with them and then we rode on the black one's back all the way here."

"Dragons? Fort?"

"Oh. So you don't remember anything at all?"

Bernadette shook her head. Zura breathed out. "It's for the better. We were walking towards Fort Snowhawk," she began recounting as reaction to Bernadette's look, "and hordes of undead ambushed us. There was this huge skeleton, armoured and carrying a heavy mace. It smashed Miraak first, then it landed a hit on your head as well."

Bernadette reached up, touching her head. There was a part that hurt a bit more, but not seriously.

"Oh. Miraak took care of that, darling, don't you worry. Anyway, after you two went down, I just stood there and let them grab me. The undead took us to the fort." She hugged herself. "The fort was full of necromancers and undead imperial soldiers. They….were doing nasty things there."

Bernadette shivered. She pulled the blankets closer to her. "Zura...tell me a story. Please."

"Of course," the Khajiit smiled. It was less lively than her usual smiles. "What about?"

"The Woodland Knight…"

XXX

Bernadette was sitting by the window, staring out distantly. Huddled in green robes Octavian had found for her and a heavy fur cloak, she kept rubbing her hands together. Her fingers were as cold as snow, and not even the sun, gaining strength with each passing day, could help heat them up.

Not just her fingers. She felt as if a block of ice sat in her stomach, glaciers gripped her ribs and something drew all the warmth from her blood.

Having Zura or Octavian around helped a bit. But each time they went away, the cold returned.

She wished aunt Flavia was here. Or Miraak. Or at least the poor little jackdaw.

With a sigh she turned away from the window. She missed her mother and her younger brothers. Heck, even the older ones. Francois, though reserved, was nice to her. And Tobias...well, their relationship was rather strained, true, but when they got into trouble, they got each other's back. Always.

Except the thing with his hiding in the sewers...

She hugged herself.

What was she doing here? Why wasn't she home, with auntie? Maybe she should let her hair grow back, put the armour away and wear the robes? Be just a scholar again…

No. She couldn't do that.

She turned her gaze back out of the window, to the sea.

XXX

"Come on, Berni, it will be fun," Zura tugged at her hand. "It's the Flower festival, the coming of spring! There will be dancing, and singing, good food and spiced drinks, performers and fun!"

"Even amidst of war?"

"Especially amidst of war. People need to hold on to something nice in dark times. Come with me, Berni. Let's put flower crowns on our heads," Zura pleaded. According to her tone, she needed something nice to hold on to as well.

"Alright," Bernadette turned away the window. "Anything new about Miraak?"

"No, not yet."

"Let's go to the festival."

XXX

Bernadette let Zura convince her to dress up into a pretty dark green dress the Khajiit has brought. She had to admit, it was rather nice to wear a flowing dress instead of her armour for once.

They danced among other women. They braided ribbons and flowers into each other's hair, then they enjoyed a drink of warm spiced wine.

Zura took Bernadette to participate in a baking contest, then they ate what remained.

General Tullius joined them for a short while, offering his arm to Bernadette. They talked intimately, feeling unburdened during the short time of festivity.

Zura joined a singing contest and won a golden rose with Ode to the Morning Star. Then both of them went to watch a puppet show, telling the tale of one of the kings of Solitude.

The afternoon slowly rolled into an evening. Zura was having another drink while flirting with a beautiful young imperial woman. Bernadette knew where this was going to end, so she departed with a sweetroll.

People were moving around her, making a place for dancing. As the music started to play and the dancing spot filled with people with flowers in their hair, she noticed a familiar figure. Her heart skipped a beat and the cold grasp around her, creeping back into place, loosened a little. Miraak, looking rather tired, was slowly making his way through the crowd towards the food, leaning heavily on a walking stick he must have picked somewhere in the woods.

She waved her hand and called his name. "Miraak!"

His head snapped up and he started looking around. Bernadette hurried through the crowd, even pushing few people out of her way.

When he noticed her, she could see his lips curling into a small smile, the warmth of which reached his eye.

"Miraak," she breathed out when she finally got to him. Before he had a chance to say anything, she gave him a tight hug, so tight as if her life depended on it.

After an awkward moment of uncertainty, he hugged her back.

He rested his head against hers. "Could you loosen it up a bit? There are some nasty bruises on my ribs," he whispered into her ear.

"Sorry," she mumbled and eased the hug. But only a little. They stood there for a time, ignoring the gathering moving around them.

He moved his hand up her back to her shoulders. "What did I do to deserve such warm welcome?" he asked in a soft voice.

Bernadette shivered. With delight, she realized. His voice… "I missed you," she blurted out. Her cheeks reddened.

What did she say? Oh, Mara preserve her. But was true.

Because Miraak's cheek was resting against her own, she could feel his smile widen.

"Uhm...are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"Oh. Right. Let's get you something to eat."

XXX

They were sitting on a bench, sharing a honey nut cake and watching people dance. The musicians decided to play a lively rhythm and the dancers were whirling around each other wildly.

Bernadette noticed Zura and her Imperial, skirts flying around, competing with another couple.

She smiled. Then a thought crossed her mind and she turned to Miraak. "Would...would you care to dance?"

"I would. But I can't."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. "I don't think that a sore half-blind cripple is the best combination for a dancer. Especially for a dance like _that_ ," he motioned towards the dancing couples.

She grumbled. He was right, of course.

"There's plenty of men looking for a dance partner. See? Circling over there," he pointed out.

She scoffed. "None of them is to my liking. Not interesting enough."

"Aha, so you prefer older men, shuffling around with a walking stick," he snickered into her hair. "Correct?"

"No-o-o, I prefer strapping men with interesting mind, able to strike a meaningful conversation," she retorted, smiling.

"Well, then we should find you some," he teased. "How about that one?"

"That's a bard! A male bard looking down women's dresses!" she wrinkled her nose. "There's no brain in that combination," unable to hold the severe expression, she burst out laughing.

"Mhm, her highness has standards," he smirked. "That one?"

"Now you're making fun of me. I'll rename you to my court jester."

"The noble warrior over there, then? He's strapping enough," Miraak eyed the man in question approvingly.

"Hmmm. He's not that bad," she prolonged thoughtfully. Then she waved her hand dismissively and leaned into Miraak, as she was starting to get cold from the inside again. "Nah. I bet he wouldn't have anything interesting to say," she turned to him. He smiled, disarming her. "I actually...I'm so sorry, I should have given this back sooner," she blurted out, then bit her lip and reached into her enchanted satchel. Luckily enough, Zura managed to retrieve their things from Fort Snowhawk.

She pulled the amulet out first, setting it on her skirt. Then the wolf skin cloak and cap. She put the broken mask on top of the cloak. Last, but not least, she presented the staff.

All joviality left him. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the metal of the staff. As he did, Bernadette felt it resonate with energy.

"Where did you find these?" he breathed out with some difficulty.

"In a tomb. In Eastmarch."

He locked his gaze with hers. "Take me there. Please."

She took his hand and put it on the staff, making him wrap his fingers around it. "I will. We go get the Horn, drop it at High Hrothgar and then go there. It's all lined nicely on the way."

He took the staff. "Thank you."

She smiled, albeit with a hint of sadness. Then she took the cloak and put it around his shoulders. "There," she commented as she fastened it and smoothened the fur, "now you look like the Wolf-brother. According to what Marc...Marcurio said, you won't be so cold all the time, right?"

"No, not with this," he said, still looking at her. He leaned the staff against the wall the bench was situated by. Then he smiled a little and unfastened the cloak, pulling it off. He put it around her shoulders, adjusting it gently so it covered her as much as it could.

"What-"

"You look like you need it more than I do," he brushed the tips of his fingers against her cheek. "You're so cold…"

"I am," she said, her voice cracking a little. If she had to be honest, the cloak wasn't helping. But she wouldn't tell him, no. She reached for the amulet instead and put it around his neck, then arranged it so it was in the perfect position on his chest. "There. Almost whole."

She reached for the mask.

He grabbed her hand. Gently, but firmly. "No. Not that one. It brought nothing but sorrow." His lips twisted and his eye darkened. "I...don't want to ever have one of those covering my face again."

She let it go.

He didn't let go of her, though.

She bit her lip and looked at him. She took a breath, then reached for her flower crown with her other hand. She settled it on his hair, touching the black strands gently. "Would...would you...be my king for tonight?"

He tilted his head. She swallowed nervously.

Moving her hand closer, he bent and kissed it. Then he put it over his heart. "My queen…"

XXX

Somehow they found their way to the small room Bernadette had been using. He was standing behind her, unlacing her beautiful dress.

She looked marvelous in it. Truly a queen of spring, especially while she had flowers in her hair. With a sigh, he placed gentle kiss on her tattooed shoulders. Then another. She tilted her head back and he nuzzled against her.

He felt the pull towards her again, getting impulsively stronger since he saw her almost dead on that horrifying altar. The same pull he experienced during their dream meetings.

What a complete fool he was. Right? But what was he supposed to do?

The dress was unlaced. He gently pushed it off her shoulders, revealing even more dark green tattoos and pale skin. Left only in her smalls, she stepped out of the dress and picked it up, putting it on the sofa where his staff lay forgotten.

She turned to him and helped him pull his shirt over his head.

She put her index finger on his lips. "One condition, my king," she looked away, almost as if she felt embarrassed. "Because of...because...well, I would ask you to refrain from kissing my lips. I would like to keep that for...for..."

His heart sank. He forced himself to smile a bit and kissed the finger resting on his lips. "As my queen wishes." He pulled her closer, seeing her start shivering, and kissed her forehead. He untied her smalls and let the cloth fall down. Then he turned her around, making her lie down on the bed.

She reached her arms towards him as he fought with his pants and underwear. "I'm cold," she whispered, her voice shaking.

He finished his struggle and slipped under the blanket. Bernadette immediately pressed to him, her skin as cold as an icicle. He hummed and started tracing circles on her back, his hands lighting up with warm orange glow.

"No," she sighed into his neck, "that doesn't help. I feel the cold creeping from inside."

He planted a kiss in her hair. "Hmm. I think I know what ails you, my queen. And I know how to help." But he didn't really know what to do with her in his arms, Wolf-Mother damn him! His head was empty, whatever hazy memories he had remaining of his time with Gormlaith and Geda, eluded him.

Maybe he should stick to kissing for the moment. He took her wrist and adorned it with garlands of light kisses, lightly brushing his lips against her skin. When he looked up at her, he saw an astonished smile settling on her face, her eyes shining with unexpected light.

Kisses were good. She purred as he moved to trail her neck with his lips. "What? What ails me, my king?"

He kissed her collarbone. "Those excuses for people took some of your vital force in the ritual. You need to replenish it."

"How do I do that?"

"I'm going to give you mine," he breathed out as he kissed her breast.

"Miraak!" she looked up, her eyes widening with concern. "No! You're so...so...you can't give me yours."

"Frail?" he smirked. He wanted to touch her, feel her skin on his… deciding to give in, he caressed her ribs, then slid his hand to her stomach. "I may not withstand a blow to the head with a mace, but I am quite hardy, my queen." He turned his attention to her other breast. "I have plenty of vital energy. My own and what I took from the dragons I killed. How do you think I survived Apocrypha, hm?"

"By being a stubborn ass?" she grinned. Then she tilted her head back with a moan of delight. The sound was so sweet. He wanted to hear more of it.

"Yes, that too," he breathed against her skin heavily. He wanted to hold her forever, he wanted her to become his, not to scatter like a dream in the wake of dawn...

Bernadette ran her hand through his hair, then let it slide down on his neck.

He shivered. Wolf-Mother damn it all. He had her for one night. He shouldn't think about what would follow afterwards.

He shouldn't be thinking at all, it wouldn't lead to anything at the moment…

As he explored her clumsily, Bernadette must have realized what was the matter. She smiled and began to gently guide him.

XXX

He woke up with a sharp inhale. Bad dreams again... Had his arms not been wrapped around Bernadette, he'd have ran out of the room.

Instead he kissed her shoulder.

Maybe he really should leave?

It was still dark. Not morning yet.

But...she just wanted to use him. And she got what she wanted. He felt a bit spent with how much vital energy he had given her, but he wasn't under the threshold like she had been.

With a sigh he attempted to get up without waking her.

"Where are you going?" she mumbled, still more asleep than awake. "Stay."

Damn it.

He reached for the wolfskin cloak and covered them both with it. There were still few hours till sunrise…

XXX

Bernadette slowly opened her eyes. She smiled. She finally felt warm again.

She sighed and blinked few times. The room was well lit by the sun, it must have been past the early morning already.

She shifted. Then she frowned. Miraak's cloak was covering her, but Miraak himself was nowhere to be found. She sat up on the bed and looked around.

Nothing. Only the broken mask was grimacing at her from the sofa, right where she left it the evening before.

XXX

She looked through most of the apartment now, but found no one. Chewing on some bread with cheese, she made her way to a tiny balcony the apartment had.

And there she discovered Miraak. He was sitting in the late morning sun, the tip of his tongue stuck out while he worked on..stones?

"Are you painting rocks now?" she asked curiously.

He looked up. "Good morning to you too, highness." He moved a bit, so she could sit down as well, instead of standing there awkwardly. "No, I am not painting rocks. I'm carving runestones."

"Runestones?" she perked up and leaned in to have a look at the stone in his hand.

He held it up so she could take a better look.

"How does it work?"

"It's simple, really. First you need to find the right stones - imbued with magicka. From ley lines."

"Aha, so that's why you were picking rocks."

"Indeed," his lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "Then you need to mold and carve the stones. There are three types - potency, essence and aspect. This one is potency, those are always square in shape. See the rune? That's Itade."

"And the other ones? These two?" she asked and picked a round and a triangular stone, lying next to his thigh.

"The round one is aspect. Rekuta. The last one, essence, is Dakeipa."

"What does it all mean?"

"The three words together form an enchantment. Dakeipa is for frost. The other two determine the strength and form of the enchantment. Itade ensures that it ends up as a frost resistance, not frost damage, glyph. But first I need to weave them together…"

"Can I watch?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. But then he nodded. He returned to carving the runestone as she shifted so she could watch better.

When he was done with that, he took the other two runestones from her hand and closed his eyes. The runestones rose up in the air, floating above his hands, turned palms up. He slowly opened his eyes, both glowing with various blue and purple shades of magicka.

The stones slowly melted and dissipated, only the lines of the runes remained, glowing in the air with the same light as the one emanating from Miraak's eyes.

He made several motions, as if he was entwining thread.

The runes moved closer together and then joined. With an elegant pulling motion Miraak changed them into a glyph. He put his hand underneath it and let the glyph land on his palm.

"Can I look at it?" Bernadette asked, eyes wide.

"Eh...why not," he mumbled and closed his eyes. As he did that, the glyph solidified into a glistening golden structure, almost translucent, humming with magicka.

She carefully picked it up. She needn't have bothered, though, it was solid. She tried to bend it. As translucent as it looked, it wouldn't budge.

"Wow," she grinned and returned the glyph to Miraak. "It's beautiful...I read somewhere that even non-mages could create glyphs, is that true?"

He tossed the glyph into air and let it rotate above his palm. "Yes. But it's considerably harder. You need to know the right incantations and have the right tools for the job," he reached for the red shawl she had given him in Riften and spread it over his legs. Lighting the magicka up again, he began to make motions as if he was embroidering the shawl.

The glyph slowly unravelled, turning to a thin thread of bright light, and settled into the cloth neatly, following Miraak's movements.

Bernadette watched with her mouth agape and her eyes glowing with wonder.

"That was amaziiiiing," she breathed out when the enchantment was done.

Miraak looked at her with surprise in his eye, but then his lips curled into a smile. He gently pushed her chin up, so her mouth would close. "Careful, highness. Evil spirits could possess you, leaving your mouth gaping like that."

"Nonsense," she retorted. Her cheeks reddened a bit.

"Maybe," he chuckled, "but are you eager to find out?"

She grimaced, but didn't hold it for long, the grimace melting into a smile. She settled next to Miraak, both of them turning their gaze to the sea.

"Oh!" she suddenly perked up. "I should give your cloak back," she reached to pull it off her shoulders.

"No, don't. I'd like you to keep it," he turned to her.

"But…"

"Keep it. It was a gift from someone I respected and loved, now I'm giving it to you. Besides, you're going to need something to keep you warm. I know you probably feel better after regaining your vital energy, but...according to what I know, there's always going to be a small claw of cold trying to get at you."

She saddened. "Really?"

"Sorry."

She sighed. "Well...I'll have to learn live with that, I suppose." She inched closer, so their shoulders were touching. "Thank you. For the cloak."

Her eyes said much more than that.

XXX

Bernadette left him hastily the moment they heard Zura come in. Miraak, feeling oddly happy, decided to stay and bask in the sun.

How he missed the feeling.

Zura came to greet him, but left without a word. She probably thought he was asleep, drowsing in the sun.

His hand wandered to the piece of wood he picked up on his dragon hunt. He also managed to procure a knife yesterday, when he returned to the city.

With a smile, he started to work on the piece of wood.


	11. Chapter 11

**Just in advance...yeah. That dragon is BIG. But, have you seen the trailer for ESO: Elsweyr? The ones there are not little lizardlings either. So I'm not smalling this one down.**

 **Besides, Alduin and the more powerful beasties should be big. I would have enjoyed fights with bigger dragons if they had some interesting mechanics, which is something that usually comes with big monsters...you know, something like hit the leg, avoid the swinging wing, run up the tail, stab it in the head from above...not just...stand there...and hack'n'slash at it...**

 **Maybe I spent too much time raiding bosses in MMORPGs, sigh.**

 **Yes, I hate Delphine with passion.**

 **XXX**

"That's all I know."

"Thanks, Octavian," Bernadette smiled. He patted her on the shoulder.

"Stay safe, girl. Stay sharp. Get the dragons, so we can get Ulfric and be done with the whole matter and move on to more important tasks."

"I will."

XXX

"Must we go all this way?" Zura huffed. Her pack was heavy with replenished supplies.

"Yes, Octavian said to be careful with the dragons. The fucking _Thalmor_ took interest. You don't want to end up in a Thalmor prison, do you?"

"No," the Khajiit mumbled.

"Who are the Thalmor?" Miraak wanted to know.

"Oh, right, you don't know about them. They are the currently ruling group of the Aldmeri Dominion, and they hate humans severely. They think that their race, the Altmer, is superior and that all world must bend to their superiorly bred asses."

"Sounds lovely," he grumbled.

"Yea. And they prohibit the worship of Talos, who-"

"I know who Talos was."

"Alright. Relative of yours, no? Both of you being Dragonborn? Forget it. Anyway, the Thalmor have an exceptionally effective net of spies/agents and are really nasty. The dragons-eating-people nasty."

For the next twenty minutes, they continued in silence.

"This should be far enough," Bernadette breathed out. She was rather glad they had a ride - the walk tired her out.

Miraak nodded. He took a deep breath and shouted. "SAHROTAAR!"

Bernadette put her hands on her hips. "What a voice."

Miraak smirked at her, then he turned to Zura. "I have something for you, against the cold," he pulled a nice leather bracelet out of his satchel. "I enchanted it this morning."

"For me? Against the cold?" Zura beamed when he fastened the bracelet around her wrist. "Aren't you a sweetie. Thank you, thank you! O-o-oh, I can feel it taking effect!"

Miraak's lips twitched in amusement. He turned away and looked to the sky. Sahrotaar was taking his time... Soon enough a black dot appeared, rapidly nearing them.

Sahrotaar landed with a thud. "Hail, thuri."

"Hail," Miraak greeted the dragon and caressed his neck affectionately. "Let us mount, please."

Sahrotaar grunted in affirmation and lowered himself.

"This will never cease to amaze me," Zura breathed out. "I'm going first, I want to hold on to Berni."

Sahrotaar helped her up with his wing and she moved to the far back of the riding harness, where she tied leather straps around her legs to prevent falling down.

Bernadette looked to Miraak. He beckoned for her to mount the dragon. "Don't worry, highness. Nothing bad awaits you."

"Worry?" she scoffed. "I'm not worried, grump."

But she didn't move forward.

He neared her and took her hand. "At least you know how I feel around horses," he muttered to her ear and led her to Sahrotaar. "Up you go."

Sahrotaar, watching them with interest in his eyes, turned to her. "I am no danger to you," he rumbled in an attempt to calm her down. "Miraak thuri opened my eyes. I am here to protect."

Bernadette shot a look at Miraak.

He shook his head slightly and helped her up.

XXX

"Where are the other dragons?" Bernadette asked. She was pressed to Miraak's back, her arms wound around his waist tightly. "I remember three of them darting out of Apocrypha with you."

"I sent four patrolling around Solitude," he remarked over his shoulder. "And the other two to Riften."

"Four? Other two?!"

"I had a chat with those three the general sent me to hunt. A few more decided to join amidst the conversation."

Bernadette shivered. There was something ominous in the way he said that.

XXX

This night they camped with Sahrotaar. The dragon turned out as an excellent companion, because the three little mortals could huddle to his warm belly and he would cover them with his wing, creating a living tent.

Miraak ended pressed in between the women, since Bernadette decided to usurp his personal space and sleep mostly on him, and Zura found his side more comfortable to curl to than Bernadette's.

No horrors haunted his dreams that night.

XXX

Bernadette peeked over Miraak's shoulder.

"I must admit, even though it still scares the wits out of me, flying is pretty useful. And the view…" she muttered under her breath.

Miraak hummed affirmatively.

They were just flying across a smaller mountain range and a huge plain of golden grasses opened on the horizon.

"What's that we are flying into?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Whiterun tundra! Make him fly a bit lower, I think you might enjoy it!"

XXX

Bernadette and Zura were making camp. Sahrotaar lay close to them, resting after another day of flight.

Miraak was moving through the rustling golden grass. His boots and staff lay discarded next to Sahrotaar's tail. A wide smile full of wonder settled on his lips and each time he found a blooming flower among the blades of grass, he made an excited noise and picked it.

Next time Bernadette looked, he was catching bugs.

She chuckled to herself. Zura nudged her with an elbow. They exchanged looks and grinned, then burst out laughing.

XXX

"Now that looks like a city I might like," Miraak noted as he looked at the mass of Whiterun, rising on the horizon.

"Whiterun's coming?" Bernadette perked up. "Could we make a stop there?"

"You're the one making decisions, highness."

She made a grimace and poked his leg, still holding tightly with her other arm wound around his waist. "Let's make a stop. The mysterious friend can wait another day."

"Where should we land?"

"I think it doesn't really matter," Zura noted from the back. "Everyone can see us coming in this hold."

Miraak grinned. "I would love to land on that castle."

"Don't even think about it, grump. The warriors in Dragonsreach would trap our dragon inside."

"Dragonsreach?"

"I'll tell you about it after dinner," Zura promised. "It's an old tale about a jarl and a dragon named Numinex. It's probably not as old as you are, though."

He scoffed. "Old and cranky. Catching Sahrotaar, pfff. I'd love to see them try."

The dragon made a rumbling sound in response, a deep, throaty chuckle that his riders felt vibrate through his body.

XXX

They were nearing the city now. Miraak started to look around for a spot to land, but was interrupted by Bernadette.

"Miraak! Miraak, look!" she poked him in the ribs and pointed.

He looked.

There were two dragons high up in the sky, slowly descending in circles.

"Is there any chance that it's Relonikiv and Kruziikrel?"

"No."

"We have to do something! If they're fire breathing dragons, Whiterun will burn to the ground!"

Sahrotaar turned his head back. "Should I fly to meet them, thuri?"

"Yes," Miraak's tone grew severe. Sahrotaar let out a deafening roar and began beating his wings with more power.

"Have you done this before?" Zura gulped, catching onto Bernadette with desperate strength.

"Yes." He reached for Bernadette's arms. "Let go, highness. I will be using my staff."

"What if I fall?" she asked, her voice tensing.

"You won't. Your legs are fastened to the harness, are they not?" Miraak stabbed the staff up towards the clouds. More of them rolled in, darkening threateningly.

"But-"

"If you do, I'll catch you," he looked over his shoulder. "Let go of me."

Bernadette swallowed. Then unwrapped her arms from around him and grabbed onto the harness.

The other two dragons turned their attention to Sahrotaar, noticing that he carried riders on his back. One was green and smaller than Sahrotaar, the scaly hide of the second dragon glistened with a menacing purple colour.

He was huge.

The green dragon roared. The purple joined in, his voice shaking the sky.

"STRUN BAH QO!" Miraak responded. The cloudy sky above their head blackened. The bellies of the clouds grew heavy with rain. A lightning bolt sizzled through the dark mass of the growing storm.

Sahrotaar roared, issuing challenge.

The green dragon dived.

A thunder rolled in. The storm, gathering at Miraak's command, broke out, pouring curtains of water. Lightning lit the blackness of the swirling clouds.

Sahrotaar pulled his wings close, spinning out of the green dragon's reach. Bernadette and Zura screamed in horror.

The green flew past them. He unfurled his wings with an angry growl.

"FO KRAH DIIN!" Sahrotaar breathed a stream of icy death at the green.

Miraak aimed carefully while the green struggled against Sahrotaar's freezing breath. He pointed the tip of his staff at the dragon, releasing a thick bolt of lightning.

The bolt zig-zagged through the sky and hit the dragon's chest.

Sahrotaar dived, making the women shriek again.

Claws of the huge purple dragon grasped nothing but air.

Sahrotaar unfurled his wings and swooped around in a curve, turning back to the hostile dragons.

Miraak screamed. Energy rippled the air around him and several lightning bolts shot down from the clouds. Three hit the purple, one the green and four crashed to the ground deep below them. Loud thunder rolled in.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

Miraak swung his staff in the direction of the shout. As he did, a shimmering ward appeared in its wake, just in time to catch the fiery breath. Flames splattered across the ward and sizzled in the rain.

With a growl and another motion of the staff, Miraak released several lightning scythes. The energy swirled through the air, enveloping the green dragon in lightning. As he shrieked in pain, Miraak raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. The lightning burst into a nova.

The green dragon stopped shrieking. His wings ceased their movement and his limp body began to plummet. Once it left the exploding lightning nova, Bernadette noticed that the lightning burnt his head horribly. Most of his skull was showing, with some remnants of burnt flesh covering the lower jaw.

Sahrotaar went into another insane maneuver to avoid scorching breath of the purple dragon.

As in a dream, Bernadette watched the world spin around her. Deep below her, she saw the green dragon crash into the Talos statue, the heavy corpse breaking the stone to pieces.

The insane movement stopped, Sahrotaar spread his wings all of sudden, almost stopping in the air. "FO KRAH DIIN!"

A storm of frost erupted from his snout, hitting the purple dragon.

The beast growled, turning his huge head towards the black. Sahrotaar pulled his wings closer, diving down.

As he did, Miraak released a cyclone of howling winds. Several lightning bolts shot down from the brewing storm. Two of them hit the flying monstrosity.

Bernadette didn't see what happened next, because Sahrotaar was falling down to the ground like a rock. When he spread his wings to stop the fall, causing another horrible tug, Bernadette almost threw up.

Zura was pressed to her back, muttering something in khajiiti language under her breath, shaking like a frightened dog.

Miraak, on the other hand, didn't seem affected by this horrid ride. When Sahrotaar went into a twist, still ascending to meet the purple, Miraak spread his arms, trusting the dragon completely. Lightning began to gather at his fingertips, twisting and swirling together with Sahrotaar, growing stronger and brighter with every moment.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

An infernal stream missed them by a hair's length. Bernadette felt the immense heat of it too close to her liking.

The lightning of the storm was now gathering around Miraak as well, the bolts darting to him like moths to firelight, crackling and sizzling, making the cloak of lightning energy grow. The electricity in the air was making their hair stand, even though the heavy rain turned into an intense sleet by now.

"GAAN LAH HAAS!"

The bellowing voice of the purple tore through the sky.

Miraak released his spell.

The lightning vortex went right for the purple. He tried to steer away, moving his gigantic wings heavily.

And then the purple energy of the shout hit them.

Bernadette curled as much as she could. Cold crept from her spine, stealing all her warmth, all her strength, stealing the very breath out of her. She had to fight to breathe again. Zura went limp behind her, dangling freely from the harness. Miraak in front cried in pain, almost letting his staff go.

Sahrotaar stopped moving his wings, curling into a ball.

As they began to plummet, the lightning vortex hit the purple dragon and exploded.

Bernadette's limbs grew heavier.

She didn't even care that the ground was getting closer and closer.

XXX

"Wolf-Mother keep us," Miraak lit up like a beacon and poured as much healing energy as he could into Zura, Bernadette and Sahrotaar.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, get together, Sahrotaar!

"Yes! You can do it!" he gritted his teeth as the black dragon began to unfurl his wings, desperately trying to stop their fall.

Miraak breathed out heavily, feeling his life force slipping away. He growled in defiance and poured more magicka into the powerful healing spell he invoked.

The beacon of light surrounding him flared up. Then it...was gone.

Shit.

Sahrotaar was now utilizing his wings, slowing the fall considerably. But not enough.

They crashed into the streets of Whiterun, leaving destruction in their wake. Sahrotaar cried out. Miraak heard a bony crack as he did.

But they were alive.

Not for long, the world kept slipping from him.

Miraak blinked and shook his head. Not if he had any say in it! He learnt a lot from the stones of Solstheim…

"Wolf-Mother keep my strength, Waters of Life keep my breath" he muttered as he invoked the power. The rainfall around them turned into a seamless stream of dancing water, glistening with inner light. The stream went through him first, then jumped to Bernadette, who gasped for breath, followed to Zura and, in the end, disappeared into Sahrotaar.

Another screech shook the world. Miraak began to undo the straps of the harness holding his legs with haste. He slipped down and hit his behind on the ground.

The huge mass of the purple dragon dropped on the temple not far from them, crash landing only a bit better than Sahrotaar.

"MUL QAH DIIV!" Miraak shouted as he stumbled away from Sahrotaar, heaving on the ground. He used his staff to support himself, moving as far away from his dragon and his girls as he could.

Lightning bolt lit the sky. The dragon raised his wings, blocking most of the light. Each wing dropped down on the ground heavily, making it shake a little. Thunder rolled in. The dragon raised his head, then his whole body.

The mass of him rose in front of Miraak like a dark mountain, blocking the sky.

He gulped.

Then he gritted his teeth and gripped his staff a bit tighter.

The dragon looked around. Noticing people of Whiterun fleeing away and warriors hurrying to the temple square, he scoffed, flames gurgling inside his throat.

An arrow hissed through the air. It hit the dragon and pierced his scales, but he didn't even acknowledge it. He arched his massive neck. Took a deep breath. And with a roar, in which his words were lost, breathed fiery inferno.

He made an arena of flames around himself and Miraak, stopping anyone from entering. He took special care to set Jorrvaskr aflame, since that was the place from which the arrow came. He closed his maw and turned his burning compound eyes to Miraak.

Tilting his massive head to the side, he rumbled: "You fight well, little mortal. Your death will bring me great pleasure." He moved forward, his wing hitting the ground uncomfortably close to Miraak. "Might I know your name, little man?"

"I am Miraak Wolf-brother. Might I know yours, wyrm?" Miraak set his staff down and raised his head.

The dragon chuckled and lowered his snout to Miraak, stopping mere centimetres away from him. "A-a-a-a-ah, so you're the little troublemaker from Solstheim. I burnt your temple, wolf cub. I imprisoned Vahlok in his tomb, shrieking as the lid closed in on him. I, lord of the skies, Kahnaxthur." He moved even closer to Miraak, his uncomfortably hot breath ruffling the man's hair. "Now to finish the job…"

Miraak raised his staff swiftly, expecting something like that, and as the massive jaws began to close around him, burst in an explosion of lightning.

Kahnaxthur cried in pain, rearing back.

Miraak darted away, closely avoiding getting crushed by a wing. "And why have you come after Vahlok won you a victory, hm? Unable to kill a little mortal yourself?" he taunted as he sent a ball of crackling lightning at Kahnaxthur. Even though it went askew due to his blind eye, the dragon was so huge the ball hit him.

It landed simultaneously with a bolt coming down from the brewing storm. Kahnaxthur flinched and grunted in pain, his voice rumbling like a rockslide.

Before Miraak could power up another spell, the dragon came from growling in pain to spewing flames. Miraak summoned a ward, wincing as the flames engulfed him. The inferno blazed around him, scorching their surroundings to blackened ashes.

The stream of fire stopped.

Miraak, his clothes slightly smouldering, stabbed his staff against the dragon. He swiftly jerked it sidewards. Winds whistled around him, pulling at his shawl.

Kahnaxthur growled as his wing slipped, pushed aside by an invisible force. He lost his footing and crashed to the ground, hitting his head with a rumbling groan of pain.

Miraak rushed forward, ignoring sharp pangs of pain in his leg. With a defiant scream he jumped up, aiming the tip of his staff, lighting up with magic, at Kahnaxthur's eye.

The dragon snarled and moved his head aside. The staff struck his scales, emitting sparks and little bolts of raw magicka as it went down.

Miraak landed with a huff.

Kahnaxthur snorted and whipped his tail.

The hit sent Miraak flying away. When he hit the ground, he cried out in pain. The staff slipped out of his fingers and landed a bit further away. Miraak tumbled almost into the fuming flame arena, doused by the rainfall a bit, but still uncomfortably hot.

With another swipe of his tail, Kahnaxthur moved Miraak closer. He bared his teeth, glistening against the dark sky, and pinned Miraak down with one talon.

"You didn't think you could win, did you?" he snarled, closing in. "But I admit, you have proven more of a challenge than the others."

Miraak screamed when the talon pressed him into the ground, almost crushing his ribs. Several bolts of lightning shot down from the sky and hit the dragon, but he merely grunted and shrugged them off.

"I will break you, proud little mortal," he breathed out, warming the air considerably. He was almost shaking with desire to cause pain. "You will wish you were never born." he opened his maw and pushed even more to stop Miraak's wriggling.

Miraak heaved as air escaped his lungs. Sparkles flew away as the tip of the talon went into the spirit dragon armour protecting him.

Something hit Kahnaxthur's side and exploded loudly. The dragon growled and looked away, subconsciously lifting his talon a bit.

Just enough to allow Miraak to act.

He buried his spiritual claws into Kahnaxthur's flesh and invoked a dark rite. The bright form of his dragon armour changed into a ghastly purple visage, fidgeting and shimmering. The air grew cold.

Kahnaxthur's maw snapped closed, his attention shifting away from the pink dust sizzling on his side back to Miraak.

With a faint breathing sound of the otherworld, Miraak began to devour Kahnaxthur's life force, absorbing it and using it to renew his own strength. Tendrils of ravenous purple energy shot out of Miraak's tiny form and enveloped the dragon, pulling him down.

Kahnaxthur roared and fought, but in vain. More and more tendrils appeared, each wrapping around him and pulling with immense strength, stealing his life force, bringing the giant low.

With a defiant roar, Kahnaxthur spread his wings wide, tearing the purple tendrils apart. The magic dispersed, tethering in the air, dangling from the dragon's body like broken chains. Kahnaxthur arched his neck, lifting his head high up.

But the deed was done.

Miraak stood up, all wounds healed. He reached his arms out towards the trembling dragon, his fingers twisted like claws of some monster.

"Kahnaxthur, ZII LOS DI DU!"

There was no booming energy. Only the power of Miraak's command. Kahnaxthur, weakened by the dark rite, shrieked. He bent, his body twisting in spasms of pain. He shrieked and shrieked, the sound of it tearing through the air and ground, shaking it violently. His body lit up, tiny specks of gold fluttering up from his living flesh. A ghastly golden visage of the dragon began to leave the body, pulled against its will, still trying to fight against the force.

Kahnaxthur's body kept dissipating, turning into thousands of little golden specks. His wings, now mostly skeletal, moved in panic, scraping against the wooden structures of Whiterun. His agonizing screeches began to die out, as his golden form, torn out from the body, lifted and was sucked in by Miraak.

The stream of golden light danced through the air and lit up Miraak's figure, shortly spreading in a form of dragon wings. Then the wings furled into his back and the energy settled inside. The massive dragon skeleton dropped down, unable to keep the stretched form of its final moments. The skull landed on the ground with a loud thud, rolled several times and stopped centimetres away from the new Gildergreen, strangely untouched by the fight.

Miraak snapped his fingers. The fires died out. With a dismissive wave of his hand, the rain stopped and the storm dispersed, sun peeking through torn clouds.

A hawk darted across the sky, its clear cry carried by the winds.

Miraak picked up his staff and hurried to Sahrotaar, still lying on the ground. Bernadette and Zura, both pale, terrified and dirty, but alive, peeked from behind Sahrotaar's tail.

Miraak knelt beside them and pulled both into a bear hug, burying his face into Bernadette's neck. When he stopped shaking, he lit up like a beacon, sending waves of healing energy to Sahrotaar and both women.

XXX

"Wow, that was something," Farkas grumbled and shot a look at the massive skull, still lying by the Gildergreen.

Bernadette, helping him with a heavy wooden beam, huffed.

"Are you sure you're safe with him?" Vilkas, clearing the rubble not far from them, looked up and frowned at Bernadette.

"Is that concern I'm hearing in your voice?" she smiled, albeit somewhat tiredly.

He frowned even more, but then looked away with a tiny smile. "Maybe." He was silent for a while. "I'm still hoping we'll play a game of Rascals on the Waterfront."

Having put the beam into place, Bernadette patted Farkas on the shoulder. She went to Vilkas and hugged him. "Don't worry. We'll play."

He grumbled.

"And I'm perfectly safe. Haven't you noticed? He just killed the fucking flying purple mountain."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Hey, you helped, he wouldn't have done it without you," Farkas interrupted, picking a rather large stone from the rubble. "I saw you throw that thingy."

"Yea, it was my last one. I'm out of bombs now," she sighed and let go of Vilkas. "Another reason to stay with my Dragonborn. He'd be helpless without me."

All three of them turned to look at Miraak, using telekinesis to help with the rubble from the temple. Sahrotaar was standing by, moving large pieces of wood in his mouth.

Vilkas' lips twitched in a smile. "Well, you've always wanted excitement in your life, Dette."

She grinned and put her hands on her hips. "Yea." Then she smiled at him directly. "I'm glad your issues are moving towards the better. Are you two going to the Bannered Mare for a drink with me after we're done?"

XXX

Bernadette came to Breezehome in the small hours of the morning.

To her surprise, she found few candles still lighting up the big room. Miraak's lean figure was hunched over the dining table, making swift movements. She heard blade scraping against wood.

Slightly hazy from the alcohol, she walked over the room and rested her head on his shoulder. "Whatcha doing?"

"I remembered I used to have a hobby," he said, stopping his movements. Bernadette focused on the thing in his hands. It was a piece of wood, slowly gaining the form of a wolf.

"You're a woodcarver?" she smiled with wonder.

"It would seem so," he smiled a bit, putting the wood and knife down. "Did you enjoy your friends?"

"Yea." She sighed and wrapped her arms around his chest. "I missed them. A lot. I didn't even bloody realized how much I did until we sat down like in the old times." She sniffed. "Hey, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I can't. Too much energy buzzing in my head," he sighed, resting his forehead against his entwined hands. "I'm tired and yet I feel like bursting."

She pulled him back, making him look up to her. "You know, I have a double bed upstairs…"

He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Oh, and how do I fit in the picture?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, slowly getting longer, then trailed them down his temple, cheek, jaw and neck, only slightly brushing the tips against his skin. "Stop teasing, grump. You know damn well how you fit." She bent, kissing his jaw close to where the ear connected to it. "You need practice…"

XXX

Zura woke up. She yawned and sat on the bed. She dressed, fixed her hair and went down to start a fire and prepare something warm to drink.

She walked to the door, opened them and smiled into the morning sun. Her herbs were working miracles. She still clearly remembered the events of yesterday, but the crippling fear was gone.

With a grin she closed the door and went to look if a Khajiit caravan was visiting Whiterun. She could use some good kahvee.

XXX

She tiptoed to the other bedroom. After listening in, she decided to have a peek and look if anyone was awake and wanting breakfast. The morning has already advanced quite a lot. It was time to leave for Riverwood and there were no signs of either Miraak or Bernadette preparing for the journey.

Once she opened the door, a smile spread across her lips. She found them entangled on the bed, covered by the wolfskin cloak, sleeping peacefully in a messy embrace.

Sighing, she went in. They looked so cute together, but it was late, so late. The end of the world didn't care about loveliness.

"Darlings," she caressed both their heads, speaking in a soft tone, "you need to wake up. Come, come, dress, have breakfast, we need to set out for Riverwood."

"No, not yet," Bernadette mumbled and nuzzled to Miraak.

Miraak blinked several times, yawned and focused his good eye on Zura. "Where's the sun?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Quite high. Come on, get up. I'd hate to have to take the cloak away."

"Alright, alright…" Miraak grumbled and began to free himself from Bernadette's embrace. The Breton growled.

"Wha-? Where are you going? Don't you run away," she snapped awake, grabbing his waist.

Zura swatted Bernadette's arm. "Darling, let go." Then she bent for Bernadette's shirt and threw it on her head. "Hurry up, have breakfast, brush your hair, wash your face, we need to go."

Miraak, sitting up already, stretched. Zura's eyes flicked to the rune on his chest, then back to Bernadette. They needed to talk.

The Breton grumbled and pulled the shirt over her head. "Yes, mom, I'm going, mom."

Zura smiled. "Good."

XXX

"Is that your book?" Bernadette asked, putting a spoonful of porridge in her mouth.

Zura looked up from her writing. "Yes. I actually got quite far into it while we were recovering in Solitude. I almost finished writing the first arc."

Miraak, who had already finished eating, stopped braiding Bernadette's hair. "Are you putting all the things we talked about down?"

"Not all of it, don't worry."

Bernadette perked up. "What things?"

Zura waved her hands. "I'm writing both your stories, but not every detail."

"You told Zura about your life, but not me?" Bernadette turned to Miraak. "Now I don't know whether I should be offended or ashamed."

"I don't remember that much about it," he sighed and resumed braiding her hair. "Scenes and flashes. General rules of the society. Faces. What I felt. I most vividly remember the moments when I fumed with anger," he chuckled.

Zura and Bernadette exchanged a look. It felt like there was more he wanted to say, but decided to hide beneath the chuckle. Zura shook her head slightly at Bernadette. Now was not the time to press him.

XXX

"Mountains can be this green?" Miraak marvelled when Sahrotaar flew over the mountain range carrying Bleak Falls Barrow and the forests of Falkreath, along with the glistening eye of lake Ilinalta and wild ribbon of the White river, opened to their right.

"That's Falkreath hold," Bernadette rested her head on his shoulder. "It's nothing but forests. I like it there, it reminds me of home."

"I think we should take you to the Colovian Highlands," Zura, pressed to Bernadette's back, chipped in. "Hills as far as eye can see, covered in woodlands, golden grasses and flowers."

Bernadette laughed. "And bears!"

Zura scoffed, amusement clear in the sound. "Much smaller than those on Solstheim."

"There are mountain lions too, though. Have you ever seen a lion?" Bernadette tried to kiss Miraak's neck.

"No, I haven't."

"There, can you see that settlement? That's Riverwood. We should walk there on foot, though," Bernadette pointed. Hearing that, Sahrotaar changed the direction of his flight. Bernadette put her arm back around Miraak. "We should really take you on a tour through Cyrodiil when this saving the world business is done."

He smiled. "I would like that."

XXX

"Attic room, eh?" Delphine, the innkeeper, narrowed her eyes at Bernadette. "Well... we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home."

Once they cramped to the tiny room with one bed, Delphine followed and closed the door. She looked them up and down.

"Which one of you is the Dragonborn?" she asked sternly.

"Who wants to know?" Bernadette cut back, frowning.

Miraak put his hand on her shoulder and stepped forward. "Let's hear what she has to say."

Delphine examined him thoroughly. He stared right back.

"So...you're the Dragonborn I heard about?" she finally broke the silence.

"I sincerely doubt that. But I am Dragonborn, yes."

"I think you're looking for this," Delphine pulled an ornate horn from under her cloak. Miraak lifted his hand from Bernadette's shoulder and took the horn.

"We need to talk. Follow me," Delphine ordered and turned around.

"No, we don't," he gave the horn to Bernadette. "You needed to talk with me. Why?"

She gave him even sterner look.

He put his hand back on Bernadette's shoulder. "I see no reason to follow you blindly to wherever you want me to go. I would, however, like to hear why shouldn't I disintegrate you on the spot for interrupting my plans."

She raised an eyebrow.

Miraak lifted a finger from Bernadette's shoulder, magicka gathering at the tip.

"We want the same thing. Get rid of the dragons. I have information, you don't," Delphine sneered at him.

Miraak tilted his head. "No. I don't think you want to get rid of the dragons, primarily. I think you want something else."

She scoffed and marched out of the room. Miraak shrugged and followed, his fingers winding tightly around the staff. Bernadette and Zura took after him.

Delphine led them through the tavern to her room.

How very inconspicuous. Miraak had to restrain himself from hitting the woman in the head for stupidity. How were the patrons supposed not to notice the innkeeper taking three people into her room?

After Zura closed the door, Delphine unlocked a wardrobe, hiding a false panel. She led them all down a stairway, into a hidden room.

She positioned herself by the table. "Now we can talk." She folded her arms on her chest and eyed Miraak. "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right."

"What do you want with me?" Miraak asked.

"I didn't go to all this trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap. I'm not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

"I don't think I have any interest to listen to your blabbering, meant to manipulate me," Miraak said coldly. "You're not trying to help me. You are trying to use me." He turned halfway away, ready to leave.

Delphine bristled. "I shouldn't let you walk out of here, knowing what you know. But I guess even my paranoia has its limits. You know where to find me when you change your mind. Because you will. You have to."

She raised her head triumphantly.

Miraak's hand darted forward. He grabbed her face and his eyes lit up with deep purple glow. Pulling her closer to himself, leaning over the table, he stared at her with those frightening eyes, not a muscle moving in his face. His hand slowly started emanating the same deep purple light.

Delphine stopped resisting.

They stood there like that for a while, both leaning over the table. The purple light kept pulsing, throwing sinister glints at the walls.

Finally, Miraak pulled away.

Delphine collapsed on the table, unconscious.

Miraak turned around, uncaring for the innkeeper, and walked away.

XXX

"What was that?!"

Miraak looked up to Bernadette, standing over him, her arms spread wide, demanding explanation.

"I took a look at what she knew," he rubbed his wrist, "she thinks the coming of the dragons is connected with the Thalmor." He scoffed. "What a nonsense. She has also been mapping where the resurrections are happening, and made a conclusion that the next would be in Kynesgrove." His gaze hardened. "And she definitely wants to use us to further her goals."

"What did she want?"

"To see if I can devour a dragon's soul. If that were true, she would send me to spy for her in the thalmor embassy, whatever that is."

"What?!"

Miraak leaned against the tree he was sitting by and closed his eyes.

Bernadette fumed for a bit longer, pacing back and forth. Then she crouched by the river and splashed some water in her face.

Finally she sat down next to him and huffed. "I'm starting to get your distaste for people wanting something from you."

"I have no distaste for those, I have distaste for the people trying to use me."

Bernadette, startled by that statement, spun her head to look at him. But he was still sitting there with his eyes closed, looking tired. She sighed and pulled him closer, so he could rest his head on her shoulder. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"No." After a pause he continued. "I would prefer to stay out for the night." He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Nothing against your blacksmith friend. You and Zura can go and enjoy his hospitality as you please. I just...I want to watch the stars."

"Dusk is still few hours away."

"Mhm." He shifted, settling more comfortably on her side. "I like it here."

Bernadette smiled. She reached for a dandelion, protruding from the grass by her side, plucked it and tucked it behind his ear. "You know what? I expected many things when we set out for Solstheim, but you are neither of them."

"I get that a lot."

"I wonder...how come you don't fit? Is that because of who you are? How you were raised, differently than others? Or because I'm short sighted and ignorant?"

"All three, probably."

She chuckled and poked him. "So you think I'm short sighted and ignorant?"

He groaned. "How did I get into a conversation like this? No, I don't actually think that...I think you have tendencies to leap at the first image you get and take it as your own. Act before thinking, one could say."

"Yea, people say that about me more than I'd like, so it's probably true," she pouted. "But I still think I was right to make assumptions. I mean, there is only a little we know about Dragon priests today."

"Can we not talk about Dragon priests?"

"Alright."

They were quiet for a moment. Miraak closed his eyes again, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He began shifting after a while.

"Wanna lie down?" Bernadette asked.

"Yes. Resting is nice," a slight smile tugged at his lips. "I can't remember when was the last time I could just lie down and bask in sunlight."

"You can rest your head on my lap," Bernadette offered, her cheeks reddening.

He gave her an inquisitive look, then chuckled. "Why not? Since I am being lazy today, why not get comfortable as well?"

"I admit, I have ulterior motives," she grinned as he laid down. She ran her fingers through his hair, stroking his head with fondness.

He hummed. "I think I can live with those."

"So tell me...what's with the star? I noticed you always look for a particular star when we pray."

"That's the Wolven star. Sacred to Wolf-Mother. It's customary to pray to it when one does not have a shrine or a token of hers. So she can hear the prayer."

"Wolf-Mother? She's the one you often invoke, isn't she?"

"Yes, my patron goddess. The mother of all. Loving and compassionate, yet fierce when she protects her children."

"She sounds interesting...tell me more. Please."


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, finally! It's late, again. What have you-" Zura greeted Bernadette and Miraak, who have just appeared by the gates to Riverwood, but once she noticed several love bites on Miraak's neck, she closed her mouth.

"You really need to get to your business earlier in the night. We have places to go, a world to save, remember?"

Bernadette chuckled. "And since when are you such an active hero?"

"I like living. I don't want the world to end, thank you very much," Zura made a grimace as they began walking in the direction of the place where Sahrotaar waited. "And seeing you two forget about all the pressing issues doesn't really give me hope. So someone has to remind you," she stabbed her finger against Bernadette.

"Relax. Sahrotaar buys back any time we may have wasted."

Zura grumbled. But then she had to smile, because Bernadette kept walking closer and closer to Miraak.

XXX

"I don't like this place," Miraak frowned once Sahrotaar landed on the courtyard of High Hrothgar. He undid the leathers traps holding his legs and slid down Sahrotaar's neck.

"Mara's grace, is there a place built by people you like?" Bernadette groaned and dismounted as well.

He looked over his shoulder. "Whiterun wasn't bad. Even Solitude, though it was too cold for my tastes." He tapped his staff and looked around. One of the Greybeards was watching them. "Here...I don't like the residents. The whole atmosphere of this place. It reminds me too much of a dragon temple."

XXX

Bernadette and Zura both stood by a stone tablet. Zura was reading it with interest, but Bernadette kept an eye on Miraak, conversing with Arngeir. His lips were pressed together, his brows knitted in a frown and his posture tense. He held onto his staff like it was the only safe thing around.

"I don't think these Greybeards are going to be much of a help," Zura noted after a while.

"Why so?" Bernadette asked, though she shared the opinion.

"Their philosophy is not one of action. Not according to what I've seen, read and heard. Also...honouring Miraak by speaking strange things at him and nearly making him fall on his bad hip? Doesn't make much sense to me."

"Well, he said that his people believed that the vital essence of a living being resided in their breath and voice, so...maybe they were giving him blessing? Energy? Something?"

"Oh, so you talk philosophy after sex?" Zura grinned. "I prefer stupid pillow talk." Her expression dropped. "But, honestly, I don't see the point of being here. These people are not helping us. And by the looks of it, Miraak's not happy to be here either."

They both turned to look at him.

"No, he isn't."

"So why are we here, then?"

"Because we don't know what should we do next?"

"Maybe we should let Miraak decide. He did it once before."

"And failed. We need something different. Ugh. Maybe we should explore that crazy Delphine's idea…"

"Thalmor and dragons?"

Bernadette sighed. "Sounds really stupid, doesn't it…"

"But we have nothing else. Nothing besides random travelling and killing dragons. Or, 'conversing' with them, or whatever it is he's doing. That isn't working either. Not fast enough."

"Say what. We'll stop at the Eldergleam Sanctuary, visit the tomb, then go to Kynesgrove to have a look at what a draconic resurrection looks like. Sounds like a plan?"

"Better than anything else we talked about."

Bernadette smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut short by a furious roar from Miraak, shaking the mountain as much as Greybeards' speech did before.

"PAARTHURNAX?!"

Both women whipped around to look at him. He threw Arngeir away with a gust of wind, turned on his heel and went straight for the door to the courtyard, death in his eye. Small bolts of lightning kept sizzling around his form, crackling and arcing through the air.

"Miraak!" Bernadette called out and went after him.

He didn't even slow his stride.

Bernadette quickened her pace, sprinting to get to the door before him. She just made it.

"Miraak, what the fuck?" she stopped in front of him, spreading her arms over the door.

He growled, showing his teeth. "Out of my way." The small lightning storm around him intensified.

"Miraak, Miraak, listen to me," she reached out to him. A small bolt of lightning jumped on her hand, making her yelp and pull it back.

"Out. Of. My. Way," he snarled, his voice getting even darker.

"What's wrong?" she reached for him again, biting down on her lip. "Tell me."

He grabbed her and pushed her against the wall with unexpected ferocity. With one hand. But he didn't move in any other way and the brewing storm withdrew from the hand pushed against her torso.

Bernadette breathed out as relief flooded through her body. So he didn't want to harm her.

Zura approached from the back, nearing him with her arms outstretched.

Miraak gritted his teeth and his push against Bernadette's chest intensified for a bit. Then he breathed out. The lightning storm died out and he let Bernadette go.

Zura grabbed him from behind and ushered him through the door.

Bernadette shot a quick glance at the Greybeards. They didn't look pleased with Miraak at all. She hurried through the door.

"Come, come, up on Sahrotaar," Zura, already sitting at the back of the harness, reached her hand out to Bernadette. After the dragon helped Bernadette climb on his back, Miraak reluctantly took his place at the front.

"Where to?" Sahrotaar bent his elegant neck and looked back. When Miraak didn't answer, he turned to Bernadette.

She pulled her astrolabe out of her pack, looked at it for a short while and then pointed towards the east. "That way, for now."

As he took off, his wings beating wildly around them, Bernadette leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Miraak. "What got you so upset?" she asked softly.

He didn't answer beside his shoulders tensing even more.

"Tell us, dear. Talking makes it better," Zura joined in. "Let it out, just like we did before."

Sahrotaar made his way along the curve of the mountain, High Hrothgar disappearing from their sight.

Miraak looked to the right, up at the top of the Throat of the World, obscured in clouds and whistling winds. He clenched his jaw and frowned in disgust.

"Paarthurnax is up there," he growled and motioned towards the top of the mountain with his staff.

"Who's Paarthurnax?" Zura wanted to know.

"A dragon. The Great White One. The General," he spat each word with burning hatred. "Alduin's brother and the second in command. He asked for human sacrifice. I fought him."

"And lost?"

He breathed out, suddenly slumping. "Yes," he answered, his voice losing all sharpness and energy. "He was the first I stood up against. He burnt me to a crisp and then dropped me from the sky."

"That's the one who broke your back?"

Miraak scoffed. "Everything was broken." He rested his free hand on Bernadette's, placed on his chest.

"How did you survive?" Bernadette asked. "Burnt...to a crisp? And dropped from the sky?"

"Miraak went to get me," his voice got hoarse. "He wanted a zealot. He found me dying in the snow. The next thing I remember is waking up imprisoned in a monastery...up north. By the glacier. Healed, damaged."

"The monastery where we found the wall with the shout needed to free the stones?"

"Yes…"

XXX

Zura looked at Miraak, sitting by the fire. He we staring into the flames, his gaze empty. The Khajiit sighed and made her way to Bernadette.

"Go, sit with him, talk to him."

"What?"

"Come on, he looks positively miserable."

"You can use words much better than I. Besides, weren't you the one talking to him about his problems all this time?"

"Yes," Zura nodded, sitting down and pulling her book out of her satchel, "but I get the feeling he might appreciate your company more this time."

"Are you sure that's it? Isn't it just you wanting to write your epic?" Bernadette raised an eyebrow.

Zura chuckled. "Maybe. But, whatever the reason, I believe I can't offer the succour you can. Go, listen, and kiss it away."

"Really? Kiss it away? Tsk."

But, after another look at Miraak, Bernadette did go sit next to him.

XXX

Miraak snapped awake. No screams this time. Only quickened breathing. Sweat trailing down his neck.

Paarthurnax…

He got up, uncaring whether he woke Bernadette or not. As he began pacing around their campsite, Sahrotaar raised his head a little and watched his every step.

He felt anger rising in his chest, anger and an undertone of horror.

He started huffing. Squaring his shoulders, he clenched and unclenched his fists several times. As the anger swelled in his chest, winds rose in the vicinity, howling through trees around them.

Sahrotaar grumbled and readjusted his wing to protect Bernadette and Zura from gusts of wind, growing stronger with each breath Miraak took.

XXX

"So, here we are," Bernadette put her hands on her hips. "Eldergleam sanctuary."

Miraak took in their surroundings, his expression relaxing, turning peaceful even. Then his eye stopped on the tree.

He put his hand over his heart, bowed a little and muttered a short mantra meant to honour Sister Hawk.

"Now, we either have to climb or you could take us up."

"Take us up, please. I'm not a huge fan of climbing," Zura grumbled.

He gave her a wisp of a smile. "As you wish." He made an upwards motion with his hand, lifting all three of them up, taking them through the air and then gently setting everyone down by the tree.

The huge gnarled spriggan with mauve leaves on its antlers peeked out from the tree. It eyed each of the visitors, buzzed affirmatively and went back into the Eldergleam.

Zura nestled among the roots of the tree. "I'm not going."

Bernadette nodded. "Follow me," she softly told Miraak. He grimaced, clenching his jaw, and followed suit.

The door still stood there, untouched, unlocked. Bernadette pushed it open. Miraak tapped his staff against the ground, its tip lighting up with gentle orange glow. He went inside the tunnel. Noticing the carvings on the walls, he decided to investigate.

He stopped by one of the first carvings. There was a dwemer hall and atmoran warriors charging it, while a thin figure armed with a staff stood above them all, ripples spreading from it.

He reached out, brushing his fingers against the stone. "I...remember this…"

He pulled his hand back with some reluctance, turning to the other side of the hall. He examined each carving carefully, moving up and down through the hall. Bernadette's chest tightened, since she could clearly see his heart sinking with every memory rediscovered on the walls, his shoulders slumping, his eyes glistening and his hand, trailing the stone, slowly beginning to shake.

Arriving to the first sarcophagus, he breathed out tiredly. "I, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, the most fearless of all, slayer of dragons, shall for eternity guard this sacred tomb," he read the inscription. He reached out, touching the stalhrim cover of Gormlaith's resting place.

Looking away briskly, he pulled his hand back and went to the other room. Bernadette followed.

He looked at the three sarcophagi. For a second, his gaze remained. Then it shifted away, turning to the walls. He walked all around the room, purposefully avoiding the sarcophagi, examining the carvings. Bernadette made her way to the sarcophagi, stopping in front of the empty one.

He finally went to her side and looked at the sarcophagi.

"This one's yours, I take it," Bernadette spoke after a prolonged silence. "Here's where we found the things."

He blinked several times. Refusing to look at both of the stalhrim graves, he decided to inspect his own first, kneeling to see the writing better.

"The heart I forsake lies not here, for it died alone in the snow. Forever lost to me, for you I shall eternally weep, Völund." He grimaced, as if in pain, when he read the lines added from the warrior's side of his grave. He turned his attention to the lines added from the other side, where the sorceress and her child lay in their sarcophagus. "The life you gave I desecrated, the trust you placed in me I betrayed. You I lost to fires, you I shall never forget, Miraak."

He rose to his feet, looking at both dead, trails of tears now making their way down his cheeks. He neared the warrior's grave and touched the stalhrim covering him, as if trying to caress his face.

"I'm sorry, Hakon. Forgive me," he sobbed so quietly Bernadette almost didn't make out the words. "I'm sorry..."

Wanting to console him, she took a step forward.

He tore his gaze away from the dead man and turned to the other grave, not noticing Bernadette moving closer.

"Geda…" his eye stopped at the small bundle the woman was holding. His fingers let go of the staff and it clanged loudly as it hit the floor.

Bernadette froze.

His hand went up, covering his mouth. The other found the edge of the sarcophagus meant for him and grabbed it to prevent his fall as he staggered, struck by what lay before him.

Bernadette quietly backed away as his shoulders began to tremble violently.

XXX

She was sitting on a root close to Zura, both of them lost in thought.

Hugging her knees and resting her head against them, Bernadette watched the door to the tomb.

It must have been horrible.

She shuddered and hugged herself even tighter. Maybe she should have denied his request?

No.

"You should give him the stone," Zura, following Bernadette's gaze, said. "Get rid of that stupid rune."

Bernadette looked at the Khajiit from her hunched position. "I don't want him to leave."

"Really? I wouldn't have noticed on my own," Zura rolled her eyes. "He's not going anywhere. Do you really think that little stone is why he stays? It never was. Give him his freedom. It will make him feel better after he comes out of...that place."

"But-"

"Darling, he had the stone in his hand and he gave it to me. He's as desperate for your company as you're for his. Stop being stupid."

Bernadette sighed and looked back at the door. Zura was right, again. And yet, there was a fearful voice, gnawing at the back of her head. What if facing his past breaks him? What if he decides to join his dead lovers? The child he didn't know he had…

She straightened all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?" Zura looked at her with worry.

"I forgot to drink that bloody tea."

Zura clicked her tongue. "So you might be pregnant?"

"Yea."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Bernadette breathed out and slumped against the tree.

"You can start drinking it now. If you've conceived, it would kill it in this early stage."

Bernadette shook her head.

"So you don't want to lose it if it's really there?"

"No."

Zura moved closer and put her arm around Bernadette's shoulders. "Then it's easy, yes?" she smiled. "You go to Miraak, tell him how you feel, don't make that face at me, dear, that's pretty obvious, give him the stone, set him free and when your stomach grows, tell him the happy news?"

"It's not that simple…" Bernadette looked away.

"No?" Zura arched an eyebrow.

Bernadette shook her head.

"So what's the problem?"

"I can't be a mother right now, can I? Or have a life with a man who has the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"Why not? Why shouldn't you be a mother? Or with him, specifically? You do your business, save the world and then you can raise your baby in peace."

"But what if one of us dies?"

Zura sighed and squeezed Bernadette's shoulder. "That's a question every person can ask, dear. What if a girl from town dies during birth? What if the farmer runs into a bear and it kills him? What if goblins decide to raid the village? What if the healer can't come in time? You need to take what happiness you can and keep it close to your heart."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"What if he leaves? Everyone else did. Nothing ever worked out before," Bernadette mumbled.

Zura ruffled Bernadette's hair. "Stop being silly, you. From what I'm seeing, everything worked out fine. Would you rather be a Stormcloak wife, making dinner for Avulstein and hoping he would return from yet another skirmish? Would you rather fight Godric's battles in his stead? Would you rather let Marcurio's distaste lead you off your path? Or be given away as a girl, married to a man you don't know? I highly doubt it," she grinned. "And if it ever begins to fray at the seams…and you really want it...fight for it! With all your warrior's might and all your scholar's intellect, fight for it and make it work."

Bernadette gave a weak smile. "You always know what to say to make sense of the world….how do you do it?"

"I grew up with many wise grandmothers," Zura winked at her, grinning still. "There are things noble magewomen can't pass onto you, because they simply don't have them."

Bernadette sighed, her gaze growing distant. "And to think I yearned for adventures while I sat in my cozy room, looking out of the window, counting stars…"

"And now you want nothing but to live in peace?" Zura patted her shoulder.

"Something like that, yea. I mean, an occasional adventure is great, but…"

"I know, I know." The Khajiit reached into her satchel and fished the binding stone out of it. "Here. Your first step towards peace," she dropped it to Bernadette's hand.

The Breton looked at it. It was pulsing with a gentle red glow, faintly outlining the blackness of the stone itself. Come to think of it, the rhythm reminded her of a heartbeat.

Both of them perked up at a metallic creak of the tomb door.

Bernadette shoved the stone into one of her inner pockets.

Miraak went through the door, limping and relying on his staff to stay on his feet. He closed the door by leaning against it, tilting his head back against the cold metal. Even from this distance he looked exhausted, his lean form hunched and reminiscent of a twisted dead tree.

Bernadette stood up and, a bit unsure, made her way to him.

Up close, he looked his age. He was pale, almost as much as when they pulled him out of Apocrypha, dark circles started outlining under his severely reddened eyes and his whole posture screamed tiredness, almost curling into himself, even though he stood leaned against the door. His gaze was distant, filled with sorrow. The usual life and energy gone from it, the amber eye now betrayed ancient depths of Miraak's soul, burdens of his life spilling out in silent desperation.

Gone were the wrinkles caused by smiles Bernadette grew used to seeing.

Wordless, she pulled him away from the door and into an embrace.

Zura joined in, putting her arms around both of them. She started purring and rested her head against Miraak's side.

XXX

"I shouldn't be here."

Those were the first words Miraak said since he left the tomb. Zura looked up from her book. Her eyes darted to Bernadette, sleeping curled by the fire.

"Why not?" she put the book away and made her way to him.

"I'm a relic. I should be dead, for a long time by now."

She sat by his side. "And yet you aren't."

He shook his head.

"Maybe there's a reason?"

"Yes," he looked at her for the first time in this conversation. Zura found herself a bit disturbed by the way his blind eye reflected the moonlight. "There is a reason. I was too proud and made a bad decision that led to a disaster. A disaster that is still taking lives," he waved his hand towards the sky.

Zura sighed and hung her head. "That's not your fault...someone else caused this."

"It is my fault. I was meant to deal with Alduin. Why else would the gods bestow this accursed soul upon me? But I didn't. I said no. Now people are dead because of it."

"You can still rectify that."

"Can I?" he grimaced. "I've never heard about anyone rising from the dead."

"I have, but I'm not sure whether the death was...full. The Divine Crusader...but that's a different matter."

He hummed and looked away.

Zura hugged herself. "I...I'm sorry, Miraak. It seems I have no words of reassurance and comfort left."

He turned back to her. "You certainly look like it."

She huffed.

After some time in silence, he spoke again. "Is something bothering you?"

She gave a half-smile. "Concerned for me, huh? While your world spins deeper into shit? I'm honoured." She breathed out. "Yes, yes, a great many things are bothering me. I can't sleep, I'm so afraid...the herbs are helping, but…they started getting less potent lately."

"What herbs?" he frowned.

She went to retrieve them from her satchel. Miraak took the pouch and pulled a long, dried leaf out of it. He smelled it, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Wolf-Mother's fangs, what is this thing?"

Not waiting for an answer, he invoked the Sight. Zura shivered as the world around her grew paler and little colder. He stared at the leaf for some time. Suddenly, with a snarl, he disintegrated it with a spell, getting rid even of the smell left by crushing of the leaf.

"Why would you...this plant is...don't eat any more!" he turned to her, melancholy gone as if it never even existed, replaced by worry.

"What, why?" Zura drew a bit back, her eyes widening.

He breathed out and let the Sight slip away. "It is...foul. It does terrible things to your body. Numbs it, among other things." He moved closer. "Look...I know something about being afraid. About nightmares. Let's do what you always proclaim, and talk about it."

Zura sat down next to him. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, as much for his own comfort as for hers. As she started speaking, hesitant at first, Bernadette, lying quietly on her side, smiled under her breath and went back to sleep.

XXX

"What's that?"

"It looks like a dragon, circling the area."

"That is Alduin, Miraak thuri," Sahrotaar commented, spreading his wings to soar. "The firstborn. Thuri, it would be most unwise to challenge him."

"But I will have to do it one day," Miraak grumbled.

Sahrotaar made a gurgling sound. "I will be by your side that day, thuri. Yet this day bears dark chances for victory."

XXX

"Shh!" Bernadette, sneaking a bit ahead, raised her hand to halt her companions. "Someone's there."

Zura narrowed her eyes. "Looks like a person. With blonde ponytail."

"Delphine?"

"She wanted to go here and examine the resurrection, it could be her."

A gargantuan black shadow flew over them, stopping above the dragon mound. Bernadette's muscles tensed.

Alduin began speaking.

XXX

"So...are we going to the embassy?"

"I have no better idea what to do."

Miraak growled. "Nor do I."

"Mind you, building a dragon army sounds impressive," Zura looked to right and left, examining two frost dragons accompanying them. Miraak had a "chat" with them a day after they departed for Riften, wanting to check on the city. A third dragon, a large red beast, built similarly to bronze dragons, was following Sahrotaar and watching his back. "But it seems too slow. That….that...scary dragon needs to be stopped as soon as possible."

"And it is true that the Blades used to be dragonslayers," Bernadette added. "Maybe there are more of them, perhaps even scholars, that could help us."

XXX

"Mjoll!" Bernadette spread her arms. The blonde warrior grinned and hugged the Breton.

"Bernadette, so good to see you alive! You and your little cat, even though she seems to have forgotten how to sing."

"No time for that right now. Is everything running well?"

"Yes, it is, surprisingly. Dragons attacked us twice, but both times there were two other that darted in, joined the fight and helped us." Mjoll narrowed her eyes at Bernadette. "Do you have your fingers in that?"

"No, no," Bernadette smiled and looked over her shoulder. Miraak was browsing Marise Aravel's stores. "That was my-" her cheeks reddened and she turned back to Mjoll rather briskly. "My friend over there. Miraak."

Mjoll raised her eyebrows. "A man who controls dragons? He must be a powerful wizard indeed."

"Not a wizard," Bernadette smiled. "A priest. Anyway...do you need anything from me? I still have some funds left…oh! What about Zephyr? Is he working alright with you? I know he has a hard time accepting a new handler..."

XXX

"Do you like my bed?" Bernadette tiptoed her fingers across Miraak's torso.

"It's soft and warm. You're in it. What's there not to like?" he opened one eye. "Well, except the dark underground room it is in."

"It's my favourite place to sleep," she purred. She lifted herself on one elbow, looking all over his naked body, taking in every detail. She touched the scar on his stomach, trailed her fingers across his ribs absentmindedly and finally rested her hand over his heart.

He covered her hand with his own.

She looked into his eyes, one blank, the other warm and...and...feeling a suspicious rise of heat in her chest, she looked away, down on the scar leading across his lips. She stared at it for a while. Then she bent, placing her lips against it, not really touching his mouth, but still being so tantalizingly close…

He hummed in response.

She quickly moved, kissing his jaw, trailing his throat with her tongue and then teasingly bit the place where his neck and shoulder connected.

He drew a sharp breath. "Aren't you a hungry one."

"I need some life in all this death and fire," she mumbled, kissing his chest.

He gave her a wolfish smile. "I can provide that," he grabbed her and before she could react, turned her on her back, positioning himself above her.

She yelped, a smile spreading across her face.

XXX

"I think we can afford a stop at Whiterun."

"Someone is eager to play board games with Vilka-a-a-as," Zura grinned against Bernadette's back.

"Yea, I am."

"I'm sure Sahrotaar is much faster than whatever means the Blade uses for travel," Miraak commented. The dragon grunted approvingly. "He'll get us to Solitude before she makes it there."

XXX

"What happened?" Bernadette's voice broke the still silence hanging in Jorrvaskr.

Farkas, sitting alone in a corner, looked at her with empty eyes, then hung his head.

"Why is everyone so glum? Where's Vilkas? Those two strange women?"

Ria approached her. Her eyes were red. "There...there was a raid. Kodlak died."

Bernadette covered her mouth, her eyes widening in shock.

"Vilkas went to Driftshade Refuge to…to get revenge. Lynly and Sabira went after him few days later, when they returned from a job and found him missing."

"Oh no...Driftshade did you say? Where's that?"

XXX

Sahrotaar darted through the sky like a shooting star, hurrying northward.

XXX

"FO KRAH DIIN!" Sahrotaar breathed death upon figures scattered around the entrance. The blast of frost engulfed the ragged figures, freezing them solid.

The dragon swooped around, landing on the structure with a thud.

Once his three riders dismounted, a dark figure rose from behind a rock in the vicinity of the entrance. "Oh, it's you!"

The Redguard, Sabira.

Bernadette hurried down to her.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm so glad to see you three," Sabira turned her glowing red eyes to Bernadette. "We need to hurry. They're both inside, Vilkas and Lynly. She just went in there, without me, didn't wait. They have silver swords, and bows-"

"Let's go," Bernadette commanded, drawing her golden sword. "We go first, you can use that sword, right? Right. We go first, Miraak fries every hostile with lightning from behind. Zura, stay with Sahrotaar. Good plan?"

"Good plan," Miraak readjusted his grip on the staff.

XXX

"This fucking door is locked!" Bernadette kicked it furiously.

"Allow me," Miraak moved forward, pushing Bernadette aside gently, and took a deep breath. "FUS RO DAH!"

The forcewave broke through the wood, almost tearing it apart.

Miraak leapt into the air and followed the forcewave in a flurry of lightning, reminding Bernadette of the Dragon priests she had fought before. She roared and charged after him.

They stormed something akin to a torture room. More ragged fighters awaited them, standing in a defensive battle formation.

Bowstrings sang.

Miraak waved his hand. Winds rose from nowhere, tearing the arrows away from their paths. Bernadette darted around him, her shield raised, and jumped right into the fray, warcry on her lips.

"Duck!" Miraak called out to her, his voice resonating through the room.

She went down at once. A wave of crackling scythe of lightning energy whizzed above her head, crashing into the people in front of her. She rolled away, knowing what would happen.

A heartbeat later, the scythe erupted in a blast of thunderbolts.

Sabira rushed forward, baring her pointed teeth. She clashed with a huge orc. With a growl, she pushed his silver sword away with her own blade, then went for his throat. Her elegant, lean fingers closed around it. She snapped it.

Another attacked her. The silver blade scraped her, leaving a thin red line on her cheek. Sabira recoiled with a horrendous, inhuman shriek of pain.

Bernadette leapt forward and cut the attacker's head off. The dragon blade went through flesh and bone as if it were butter.

Miraak clenched his fingers. A heavily armoured figure, closing in on Bernadette from behind, shot up in the air, screaming. With a growl he whipped his hand to the side. The telekinetic force followed his movement, smashing the man into a wall.

Miraak smashed him several more times to make sure he was dead.

Heaving, Bernadette looked around. The enemies were dealt with. Sabira was feeding on the last one standing.

Bernadette shivered, coldness creeping up her spine. She shook her head and looked around.

Vilkas lay on a table, bound, naked and severely hurt.

She dropped both her shield and her sword, hurrying to him.

"Lynly!" Sabira called out and went to a cage in the back of the room. She tried to grab the bars to break them, but the metal was silvered. With a hiss, she withdrew.

Miraak sighed and tore the door open with telekinesis.

The nord woman hurried out of the cage, her eyes wide. "Sabira! You came! Wait, Vilkas...is he alright?" she turned to Bernadette.

"Doesn't look like it," the Breton called out, unbinding him. "He's...shaking. And his teeth look strange."

"Oh no! He's close to changing! They wanted to...to...force him to change so they could skin him-"

"What?!"

"No time," Miraak landed next to Bernadette and put his hands on the sides of Vilkas' head, his fingers resting at the temples. "Let's have a look at you, big man…" he grumbled to himself, his hands lighting up with a deep purple glow.

Bernadette took a step back. "What are you going to do to him?"

Miraak's eyes lit up as well. "I want to stop him from changing forcefully. To achieve that, I need to poke around his head and do...some things."

"What things?!"

"Do you trust me?"

Vilkas groaned, his bones cracking, lengthening. Bernadette's eyes darted several times between the two men.

"I do."

Miraak gave her a quick reassuring smile and turned back to Vilkas. Once he touched the man's head, Vilkas' silver eyes flew open. With a ferocious growl, he tried to claw the priest.

Miraak clicked his tongue and frowned. An invisible force slammed Vilkas back to the table. Miraak started humming some melody and put his hands back on the sides of Vilkas' head. The Companion tried to bite him, but was held back by the spell.

Bernadette, Lynly and Sabira watched as the room filled with dancing, pulsing shades of purple. Hints of gold began appearing after a while, responding to the melody of Miraak's voice. The colours then intensified, threads of golden light breaking through the sea of purple, weaving into intricate patterns. The purple changed, hanging from the firm blaze of golden light like tattered cloth fluttering in the wind.

And in the center of it all, Miraak's fingers danced lightly across Vilkas' skull.

XXX

"Thank you," Vilkas looked up, trying to focus on Miraak. He failed miserably.

"You're welcome," the priest stepped back, dimming the magic. The Companion woke up few moments ago, fidgeting under his touch, blinking rapidly. As all three women hurried to Vilkas, Miraak backed away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mind magic was draining.

With a sigh he took his staff and began limping in the direction of the exit. He needed to sit down, preferably on fresh air…

He had to erase several memories connected with the torture the man endured, very traumatic, which could wake the Beast again. All the while he had to hold the Beast on a leash, and heal the body at the same time to bolster its own endurance against it and ensure a feeling of safety, so the man wouldn't just crumble under his fingers.

Deep in thought, he missed a quick movement on the right.

A tiny sound of pain escaped him as something sharp went into his stomach, through the same place where Vahlok's dagger did so long ago.

"FUS!"

He only managed to force this one word through his lips. But it was enough. The forcewave, much weaker than what he was used to, pushed the attacker away, forcing them to pull the weapon out of Miraak's stomach.

Clutching the bleeding wound with one hand, he summoned his magicka for a healing spell.

Several gold sparks darted away from his hand, then sizzled into nothingness.

Wolf-Mother damn it! The attacker must have used poison of sever magicka. Miraak backed away with some hardship.

The attacker, a man dressed in black and red leather suit, regained his footing. The masked head, from which only eyes could be seen, turned back to Miraak.

XXX

Bernadette, sitting next to Vilkas, watched Lynly and Sabira rummage through the room and gather the fragments of Wuuthrad.

"Is your being a werewolf what caused your bad moods?" she asked softly.

He looked at her. "Yes, what else?"

"Why didn't you tell me? Is Farkas one, too?"

"He is," Vilkas rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "By Ysmir, your man may have healed the cuts, but my muscles still hurt. Huh. How do you tell your friend that you're a monster? And that you're no longer sure you can keep it under control?" he finished in low tone.

She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut short by an echo of Miraak's voice, rumbling through the fort.

She jumped to her feet and drew her sword. As she ran, Vilkas called after her: "What's that?"

"Trouble!" she shouted over her shoulder. She remembered _that_ shout and there was no reason to use it here without some imminent danger…

As she ran, she heard another known shout, the one Miraak used to call forth the glowing draconic protection. She was getting closer.

She barged into the entry hall. She saw two figures fighting - a leaping shadow and glowing Miraak. His staff lay tossed in a corner of the hall. Miraak was using his ethereal claws to fend off the assailant.

Badly.

"HEY!" Bernadette screamed as she charged at the dark figure.

He leapt back, his body flipping over through the air with grace. Bernadette, charging with all her speed, almost hit a wall.

The man landed on his feet, drew back and hurled two throwing knives at Bernadette. The blades made a "thud" sound as each buried into her shield. Before she had a chance to react, the man neared her and struck with his dagger, as fast as a snake.

The blade left a scrape on her brigandine. Bernadette, baring her teeth, lunged at the man. He danced away from her reach.

"You little fuck," she growled. But she was a good fighter, too. Raising her shield, she tried to corner him, to push him against a wall.

The man shot a look at Miraak, collapsed against a wall, breathing heavily. He whisked back to Bernadette. Slipping past her, he attempted to slit her throat. She let go of her sword and grabbed his wrist, stopping the blade milimetres from cutting her open.

With a quick, brutal motion, she broke the wrist. The man shrieked. The dagger clanged on the floor.

Vilkas, Lynly and Sabira arrived just in time to see Bernadette snap his neck.

A tiny stiletto, one which was seconds from pushing through her armpit, fell down to the stone floor.

She let the body crumple to the ground along with her shield and rushed to Miraak. His breathing was getting more and more haggard, and as it did, the spiritual dragon armour began to flicker.

"Miraak! Miraak," she supported him so he wouldn't go down like the dead assassin, "are you hurt?" Seeing his expression, she didn't bother waiting for an answer and looked him over. Her eyes stopped on his bloodied hand pressed to the right side of his stomach.

"Oh no," she breathed out. "Let me take a look," she lifted his hand. Lynly joined them and helped Bernadette roll up his tunic and shirt.

A moment later, Zura burst in. "What happened?! I heard shouting and screaming and-" her eyes stopped on Miraak's wound, dark red blood oozing out of it, and her sentence ended abruptly.

"Can you heal yourself?" Bernadette asked.

"Severed my magicka," he shook his head weakly.

Zura opened her first aid kit.

It gaped back at her, mostly empty. "Who will heal the healer?" she uttered, her voice trailing away.

"Balls!" Bernadette snapped. "I can see a half of a minor healing potion in there. Pour it on him, put it on cloth, whatever, just make him last for a bit. Sahrotaar will take us to Dawnstar. The court mage there is a healer."

Zura poured some of the leftover potion on the wound. Miraak hissed through his teeth. "Fangs of the Wolf-Mother...it burns." The dragon armour flicked one last time and dispersed.

Bernadette nuzzled his cheek while Zura put a cloth with the rest of the potion on the wound and bandaged it carefully. "Stay awake, Miraak, stay with me. It's gonna be alright."

Vilkas, who had been looking through the assassin's pockets, got up. "He's got some letter here."

Bernadette waited for Lynly to roll Miraak's clothing back down. She lifted the man carefully, grunting, but managing just fine. "Put your arm around my neck. Just like a pretty bride," she forced a grin. He gave a faint chuckle. "Yea…" she huffed as she went to the door, "could you look him over to the last detail? And take our things from the floor to Dawnstar? I'd like to take you all three home myself, or at least make sure you can do so on your own, but I need to get Miraak healed first."

"We could use some healing as well," Lynly breathed out and picked up Miraak's staff. "We'll meet you in Dawnstar."

XXX

"Anything! I'll help you with whatever, just heal him," Bernadette set her pleading eyes on the dunmeri priest. Miraak was limp in her arms, his head tilted back.

"Of course I will," the man, Erandur, nodded.

"I need a room!" Bernadette called over her shoulder at the innkeeper.

"Sure, that way," he hurried from behind the counter.

XXX

Miraak's eyes fluttered open when the golden glow around Erandur's hands began to dim.

"Mhm?" he turned his head in confusion, looking for Bernadette. She took his hand and caressed his cheek.

"It's fine, it's fine. He's healing you. You're going to be fine."

Erandur hummed and pulled away. "Yes, that is true. I did what I could, and through Mara's grace, your wound will close. It will take some time. But your life is no longer in danger." He stood up and gave Bernadette a weighty look.

She nodded.

Miraak's eyes darted between her and the leaving priest several times.

"He asked for my help with something," she said softly, caressing his hair. "I promised it if he healed you."

"I'm going with you," he tried to get up. As he did, the wound reminded him of its existence. With a groan he laid back down.

"No, no, Miraak. You stay. I want to find you right here, _alive_ and well, when I come back. You need to heal," she cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. It was a long, gentle kiss. After she broke it, she nuzzled against his head, ruffling his hair. "Zura's just a room away. Call if you need anything. She has enough money for you two to stay here for a few days. Vilkas, Lynly and Sabira should arrive by tomorrow's evening."

With one last kiss on his nose, she stood up. She smiled, turned around and walked away.

XXX

Was that a boar feasting on a dead snow troll by the entrance to the ruined tower?

Yes, yes it was. A saddled boar. It looked at her and Erandur, passing by carefully, and snorted. Then it returned to its dinner.

Its presence could mean only one thing.

Indeed. After they entered, they saw a small disheveled figure, surrounded by three storm atronachs.

"Great. Now, on count of three, you be hitting the-" he snapped the sentence in half and whipped around. When Firan's bright green eyes found Bernadette, he grinned and lowered the axe he was holding. "Oi! Big woman!"

She waved at him.

"You be here 'bout the fucking daedric shit?"

Bernadette looked at Erandur and raised an eyebrow. "Yea. Though I learnt that only a few moments ago."

XXX

Finally….the warmth of the inn filled them, making her feel safe. Fighting with only a crossbow and a dagger was not what she was used to.

Firan peeked around her. "Be your lovely friend Zura with you?"

"Yes, she should be around here somewhere."

There were people eating dinner, rather gloomily, in the inn. She couldn't see any of her friends in the main room. The innkeeper had to notice her looking around, for he waved to draw her attention. She went to him, Firan following suit.

"Your friends are over there, along with a bunch of Companions," the innkeeper pointed out one of the rooms she had rented.

"Thank you," Bernadette smiled. "Want some dinner, Firan?"

"Ye. Something made of plants," he opened his eyes wide at the innkeeper and grinned, flashing his blindingly white teeth.

After they got something to eat, they both went to the room the innkeeper pointed out. Vilkas and Miraak were playing a game of Tundra Striders, placed on a table Vilkas had dragged close to Miraak's bed. Zura, Lynly and Sabira were talking, sitting on the other bed in the room.

"The room here be stinking with daedric shit," Firan wrinkled his nose.

All heads turned to him.

"And not 'cause of him," he jerked his head in Miraak's direction. "That one be clear, made sure of that myself." He rubbed his hands together. "Maybe you others be wanting a cleansing?"

The Companions exchanged looks.

"We...might. Not now!" Vilkas raised his hands as Firan took a step closer to him with a rather disturbing grin on his face. "Would you accompany us to our hall?"

"Ye. But sleep first." He winked at Zura. The Khajiit raised an eyebrow and smiled.

Bernadette sat down on the edge of Miraak's bed and caressed the hand he rested on her thigh. She looked the board over while Firan joined the three women on the other bed and started a rather fiery debate over something. Bernadette wasn't listening to them.

"Oh my," she grinned after she examined the board and the figures on it. "Vilkas, you're getting your ass kicked!"

The man grumbled.

Miraak, looking over the board thoughtfully, pointed to two of his giants and moved the figurines against the last military camp Vilkas had remaining. The figurines, lifted up by telekinesis, landed gently on the board.

Vilkas took several dice and rolled them. "Blast it."

Miraak smirked.

After Vilkas removed his camp from the board, he reached inside his shirt and pulled a many times folded paper from out of one pocket. "Here, the letter the assassin carried. You should read it."

She did so while the men played another round of the game.

Putting the letter down, she noted: "I think I have a pretty good idea who sent him."

Miraak looked at her.

"Must have been Maven. She has ties to the Brotherhood and I interfered with her business."

Miraak's eye darkened. He frowned.

"No, don't you even think about setting your dragons loose on her," Bernadette hissed. "We need to get rid of her in a way that won't put the people against us." She nudged him gently. "Back to the board. Vilkas is plotting to save his dignity."

XXX

The sounds from the room where Zura and Firan were died out some time ago. They must have finished their business and fallen asleep.

Bernadette was sitting on her bed and playing with the binding stone.

"What's bothering you?" Miraak turned his head to the side so he could see her.

"A lot of things," she murmured, still staring at the stone in her hands.

"What's bothering you right now?" he sighed.

"That I'm a terrible person," she said after a while and got up. She sat down on the edge of his bed and placed her hand on his heart. "Zura was right, as always…"

She pulled back. When he reached for her, she pressed the binding stone into his palm instead.

He frowned, immediately recognizing it. He looked up at her.

"It's yours. What happens next is your choice. As it should be. It's your life, after all," she trailed off.

He looked at the stone, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. After what felt like an eternity, he took her hand and placed it back over his heart. Then he clenched his other hand into a fist, crushing the stone to dust.

Bernadette felt a wave of magic ripple through the air. It went right through her, resonating in her ribcage. And then it was gone. It disappeared, as if it never existed. Black dust rose from Miraak's now open palm, and specks of burning red light, rising from his chest from under her hand, joined the black dust. Both gently dispersed into nothingness, leaving only a slight smoky smell behind.

Bernadette looked down. The skin on Miraak's chest was now unmarked, the rune gone as if it had never been there.

He reached for her with his free hand, the other still covering her palm resting on his chest. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

 **XXX**

 **And that's it for Book 2. Miraak has gained his freedom, but what will he do with it?**

 **Again, Book 3 is...roughly planned out. I started writing the first chapter, but my muse is lacking right now, probably tired by all the seminary papers I had (and have) to write, and there are still exams I have to take, so don't expect it anytime soon. You will get it, no worries, I just can't say when.**

 **But know that Book 3 will be the grand finale. Trilogies are good. :)**


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